


Stronger Than Fire

by Aviantei



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: F/M, Illuminati headcanons, Spy Shima, canon divergant, lots of headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:57:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21504817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviantei/pseuds/Aviantei
Summary: "I guess I really am fickle." It should have been easy. Being a spy, being a double agent. But when Shima Renzo's betrayal of the True Cross lands him smack in the middle of a relationship with his new superior, choosing a side has just only gotten more complicated than ever before. [RenzoxOC]
Relationships: Shima Renzou/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net on November 5, 2015, and it is still ongoing. Once it was revealed that Shima was an Illuminati spy, I had a lot of feelings. So, yeah, this story was born. Emilia is one of my fav OCs to work with, too. A lot of canon has happened between the original idea for this fic and now, so expect super heavy divergence from that.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Stronger than fire_  
greater than all the wars we wage  
and I don’t know what you want me to be  
but I don’t want to be **perfect** anymore  
—“Forget Me,” BT

* * *

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter One

* * *

There was only so much that Renzo could listen when it came to meetings like this. Sure, he could learn all the important stuff, but becoming properly engaged was a whole other matter altogether. At least he wasn’t the only one looking bored. She was there, leaning against the wall, legs twitching in a tapped foot every now and then. Renzo got the impression that, had she been sitting, her legs would be swinging instead.

There was an explosion of coughs. Renzo glanced over, finding Lucifer— _Ah, I guess it’s supposed to be -sama, right?_ —hunched over, Renzo’s two-toned acting superior hunched over the demon in concern. Almost panicked, Gedouin was blubbering in equal distress.

“That’s enough for today,” the woman in glasses said. Her tone and demeanor really were something. “Commander, you really shouldn’t push yourself. You need to rest.”

“Right, that’s great and all, but what about me?”

The woman from the wall had finally spoken up, a raised hand in the air. She was the only one unaffected by her sickly leader’s state, fresh with a smile on her face. There was a click of a tongue in annoyance, and Renzo’s boss stood up, exerting her small stature as much as she could.

The other woman chuckled, toying with a small lock of her hair. “Easy, easy, Miss Glasses,” she said. “I was just promised that I could make a formal request during this meeting. And, well, given the circumstances, I’d like to make it before things get any worse than they are now.”

Renzo’s superior gritted her teeth. Different from her handling of Gedouin, any and all annoyance was obvious. “You do know my name, Nussbaum. I request that you use it.” At this, Nussbaum shrugged. “And, as you said, given the circumstances, I’m sure your request can wait. If the Knights of the True Cross are here, as well as Satan-sama’s son—”

“Emília,” Lucifer’s weak voice resounded. Gedouin and Renzo’s boss both let loose glares of varying degrees in the woman’s direction. “I did promise after all. What is it that you need?”

At that, Emília Nussbaum’s eyes flashed in victory, her mouth widening to a smirk as she spoke. “Right. So, I know it was a group decision and all, and I’m not saying he’s not skilled…but I think it’s a waste for Renzo over there to be acting as a guard. I’d personally like him back, if that’s okay.”

Upon hearing his name, Renzo couldn’t act as an observer anymore. The four available pairs of eyes in the room shifted to him, and Renzo went to raise his hands in defense. Everyone’s gazes soon loosened, though, and nothing was necessary to leave his lips.

The words _I’d personally like him back_ left a strange burning sensation in his stomach.

“Sure, as a Tamer, he has some serious combat merit, yeah. Anyone would want him as the muscle. But the real fact is, this kid is built for intelligence. If you wanted more reasons, I could list them, but really, that ends my request,” Emília Nussbaum concluded, lifting her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. There was a soft clattering that Renzo couldn’t identify the source for.

Not that he had time to focus. The woman was already striding over to him, and she placed a hand on his shoulder, her head leaning close to his side. “I like him a lot, so his presence would be greatly appreciated, Commander.”

A tilt of her head and Renzo was swimming in her blond hair. “Bet that idiot wouldn’t notice if you went missing for ten minutes,” she murmured. “I’d like to actually talk to you face to face if you don’t mind.”

“That’s enough!” Renzo’s boss shouted from across the room. Immediately, Emília Nussbaum pulled back, putting a few steps worth of distance between her and Renzo. The clatter resounded again, faint, but still present. “This is no time for games, Nussbaum. You should be ashamed showing such disgraceful behavior in front of the Commander.”

Emília Nussbaum’s lips formed words too fast for Renzo to read them, but no sound escaped.

“Everyone,” Lucifer said, bringing the room into a deeper silence. There was no command needed; everyone understood. “Emília, I will think about your request. Considering our staffing conditions at the moment, I think it would be best if we were to keep things as they are.” Emília Nussbaum gave a salute, the same hand forming a thumbs-up. Renzo’s boss grimaced. “This is no time for in-fighting. Resume as you were before. And Gedouin…”

Immediately, the scientist perked up. Emília Nussbaum connected her eyes with Renzo’s, and mimed a quick gag, her tongue flashing in pink.

 _Disgusting, isn’t it?_ her eyes seemed to say.

“Let’s go!” Gedouin shrieked. Renzo remembered his place, and fell into step after the man. His boss went back to caring for Lucifer, and Emília gave him a single movement wave, hand at level with her chest.

And Renzo knew that he had heard her voice before.

* * *

She had been right, and it was relatively easy to slip away from Gedouin’s side with a lame excuse about going to the bathroom. For a scientist, he wasn’t all that observant, or maybe that was the panic over Izumo’s failed experimental state. Either way, Renzo was grateful, since it gave him the chance to fulfil his own curiosity.

It couldn’t do anything to make him feel better about Izumo, though. He wished that Lucifer had approved that transfer back and that the Intelligence Division would take him somewhere far away from Japan, anywhere at all. Far away from Izumo and the True Cross and his classmates storming the facility.

Izumo had to hate him by now. Bon and Konekomaru were definitely devastated. He knew. He had done everything in his power to make sure that was the case. He wouldn’t be able to go back. His family had feared that possibility, of making him deal with it. In reality, Renzo was more than ready to have that thrust onto him.

_‘Cause that’s the role I have to play now, right?_

“Great, you came.”

Emília Nussbaum pushed away from the wall she was leaning on with her foot and shoved her hands into her pockets. Now that Renzo was alone with her and hyper-attentive, he could pick up on her details. Blond hair pulled back into some ponytail, her Illuminati jacket open, just one layer of many clothes, topped off with a bright blue sweater-jacket. Even though he could see her t-shirt, it was impossible to tell what her bust size was.

And her face. He had assumed she was a woman from her speech pattern, but it was still too round, her eyes too wide. The sort of arrogance that came from her smirk could only be possessed by a teenager who had made it too far in the world too fast.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Shima Renzo,” she continued. “I’ve been looking forward to this ever since I first heard about you. You’re definitely something, you know, Kid. You should be proud.”

Anyone else would have bristled at the nickname. Renzo didn’t mind in the slightest. “And what should I do? Such a pretty lady I’ve never met before has an interest in me,” he said, keeping his voice light. She really was cute. This was why girls weren’t so bad after all. “If you keep saying things like that I might start to blush.”

Emília laughed, taking the comment in stride. It was completely different from Izumo. Her whole face would have been red, and Renzo’s face would have taken an impact of some sort. “Man, I heard you were that kind of guy. It’s impressive really.” Emília closed the gap between them easily, and Renzo could have kissed her with a tilt of his head if he had been so inclined. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of green, almost as luminous as Rin’s. “So how much did you have to practice to perfect that fake smile of yours, huh, Kid?”

Renzo recoiled; Emília didn’t move. “Well, I get why they wanted you so badly,” she said. “With a fake smile like that, you could pull the wool over anyone’s eyes, am I right?” Her smile dropped, stalling at neutral. “But you’ve got a lot to learn still. I mean, if someone calls you out and you just panic, any spy knows that they’re dead, right? You’re not all that suited to this job, now are you?”

Renzo swallowed. “You’re trying to mess with me, right?” he said. “You said that I was much more suited to intelligence than grunt work.”

“That’s true. It’s mostly a personal interest, but I do want you in my camp.” There was something about the way she formed her words, not quite like she was singing, but humming instead. “Hm, hm, so what’s your deal with Kamiki, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

Where could he even start when it came to Izumo? There wasn’t anywhere good, no time to settle his feelings down. He had either been working or unconscious. He had thought he had everything figured out, but it was everything Renzo had to keep himself making things up on the spot, then retaining them for later use. The knowledge that there was a possible way out made him uneasy, less convincing.

So far, Emília was the first person to see through that.

“Well, it’s just that I saw you earlier.” She flexed her fingers. “You see, I actually know a lot about you, Kid. So I know that what you did to her familiars isn’t the best that you can do. And I know that people like you only go easy when they’re uncertain.” Renzo could feel himself starting to sweat, tottering on the verge of a shiver. She was from Intelligence, so she was observant. Had she figured him out? “So what is it? Lingering feelings? Did you get started and realize your façade was more real than you were?”

Renzo hadn’t considered the possibility. The words felt true, she had spoken them with such conviction. Self-doubt was an annoyingly easy attribute to pick up. Emília’s face was split with a smirk that showed her awareness of victory.

“I could fix that in you, you know,” she said. “You’re talented for a kid, I’ll give you that. But, well, kids are unstable by nature, right? Trying to rewrite yourself at a time where you’re uncertain of who you are… That’s pretty dangerous.” Her tongue peaked out, wetting her lips and smoothing out the cracks. “We’re pretty serious in the Intelligence Division. We don’t play games, and we don’t just memorize what we watch. We _live_ it. Doesn’t that sound interesting to you?”

It did. It sounded like a fix. She was offering to teach him how to deceive the Illuminati better, and she didn’t even know it.

“Hey, I get what this is,” Renzo said. Even though she had called his smile fake, he plastered it back on again. “You can’t wait, huh? Is it so bad to wait ‘til this whole thing blows over and the Commander says whether or not I can transfer back? I mean, this mess should be over soon. Trying to get me to work for your goal, too, is just a bit desperate, right, Emília-chan?”

It was a test of the words. Sure, she had made it to the meeting, so that made her at least an Adeptus Minor. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t act on familiar terms. She was only a bit older than him if Renzo guessed right. Her speech wasn’t formal, and she had brushed off his pass at her earlier. What could it hurt?

If she was concerned with victory as Renzo thought she was, it was impressive that she didn’t show it. His words were hardly acknowledged with a lock of hair swirled around her left index finger. “You’re confusing desperation with preparation,” she said. “There’s no way I could have you jump ship now and not have the Commander down my throat. And that’s to say nothing for Miss Glasses.” At the mere mention of Renzo’s boss, Emília snorted. “I’m laying a foundation. You know how important that is. I mean, you tricked your friends, your _family_ , right?”

It should have bothered him. Renzo went to force a grimace, and then stopped. It didn’t bother him. And the person he was pretending to be—the Illuminati’s spy—shouldn’t have been bothered by it either. In seconds, he was back to normal, his face relaxed. His muscles didn’t even twitch.

She wanted him deeper in the Intelligence Division. That was the core network, the hub for everything the Illuminati would collect. It was perfect for his job. It was perfect for _him_. Renzo had to want to be there, too. He _did_ want to be there.

And some part of him ended up with the strength to laugh about it. “So you’re saying that to you getting what you want is the same as infiltration?” he asked. It was insane. Emília hadn’t been joking when she had said that they lived it.

“I see you understand.” Renzo was suddenly hyper-aware of his own body language. He didn’t think he had been making any obvious moves. She could still read him. His bewilderment must have been obvious, too, as Emília let out a laugh—her loudest one yet. “For a kid, you’re actually pretty cute.”

Her teeth flashed, and Renzo wasn’t sure if the action was happy or predatory.

“I know you,” Renzo murmured. “Where do I know you from?”

“That’s exactly it,” Emília said, pointing an enthusiastic finger in his direction. She pivoted without warning, her hair flying to the side. The clicks echoed again, and Renzo found their origin to be the beads hanging off a hairstick stuck straight through the bun at the base of her ponytail. Even in the Illuminati’s uniform pants, her hips swung tauntingly as she walked away. “If you want to know so bad, then come and figure it out!”

Renzo went to whistle, but his mouth was already dry.

* * *

He could have racked his brain, could have tried to figure it out, but he knew it wouldn’t be any use.

There was something. She had to have seen something, _noticed_ something. Being at the Academy with Mephisto had conditioned him to weirdoes, but she was something different. It wasn’t just the fact that she knew him, either. It didn’t take much to know who someone was.

But, no, she _knew_ him.

_She knows me better than me._

He had come this far in order to test his skills. It wasn’t a game, but at the same time it was. He had gotten cocky off of a bit of praise. If he was that important, that skilled, then didn’t that mean that he was valuable? Contingency plans existed for a reason. If things go too bad, he would be pulled out and saved. That was something he believed, even though the other part of him was terrified that he would never be able to go back.

To his friends.

To his family.

To his ordinary life.

He shouldn’t have wanted to go back. He could play it off as a ruse later, but what he had told Izumo was still the truth. He really did hate everything, the expectations shoved on him just because he had been born in a certain year with a certain last name, and with a certain older brother that hardly existed to him, not even in the kanji that made up his name.

_If all I’m good for is protecting Bon, what use is it?_

It was an escape. A way into another place, where _he_ mattered because he _was_ him, Renzo, and no one else. He wasn’t Takezo, this was all him. He was the one who had been picked out. He had worth other than just taking care of Bon for the rest of their lives—and if one of them went down first, Renzo had better hope it was him.

But with the Illuminati, he could be anything _but_ Bon’s body guard. It was a freedom. No, it didn’t have to be with the Illuminati, either. A spy. He was fine with being a spy so long as he could be anyone else than who he was supposed to be. Anything but that would be fun.

So he would play the traitor, he would play the double agent. He would play whoever he had to be, trick whoever he had to, so long as he was himself. That was fine. Being torn away from everyone was fine. So long as…

He convinced himself that it was different from running away.

 _A responsibility you didn’t chose on your own…_ It was shit, and he hated it. He hated himself for having no choice but to do as he was told. He hated himself for being born as someone with their life determined already.

_If only… I had been born as someone else… Then maybe I wouldn’t have to lie just to get what I want._

Self-hatred.

It was a claw. So were his attachments to everyone else. To his family, the Myodha. They would drag him in different directions, tear him apart. It would have just been easier to cut them off, cut them apart, separate himself. But the fact was, in the end, he couldn’t do it.

_I can’t do it at all…_

Emília Nussbaum could see everything.

In that short amount of time, she could tell. It was dangerous. If he went over to the Intelligence Division, if Lucifer approved the request, how much time would he have to spend around her? How much would she manage to dissect about him?

_My cover could be…_

Her taunting smile.

The smell of her shampoo.

She had to have walked away like that on purpose…

The clatter of beads.

Her voice echoed to some form of memory, deep inside his brain.


	2. Chapter Two

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Two

* * *

Renzo felt better hanging up his phone. This time, he stayed out of sight, watching his former classmates clustered together. They were fine, Gedouin was done for, and Izumo was safe. There was no need to make an appearance and rile everyone up further, especially as the reinforcements showed up. Naturally, it was a group from Kyoto.

Renzo turned around, navigating as best as he could. His orders were to retreat, to return to the main headquarters. This part of the base wasn’t as shabby as he thought it would have become in the battle. It would only take a few minutes do regroup with the others, and then they would be out of Inari, heading far away to the European base.

In some ways, it was his last chance to say goodbye to everyone, but he had already done that at the festival. No sense in repeating the experience.

Still in his palm, Renzo’s cellphone rang. It was one he had been provided by the Illuminati when he had joined up with them, bought to be the same model as the one he already owned. That way, it wouldn’t look suspicious for him to use it around his classmates should he need to. It had a different number, though, one that only members of the Illuminati had access to. He answered it without hesitation.

_“Hey there, Shima Renzo-kun. Is this better for you? Have you figured it out yet? I know you may not have had a lot of time to think, but I believe we tend to figure out the most important things about ourselves when we’re not focusing on them. Has your subconscious solved the mystery, huh, Kid-do?”_

Through the phone, her voice had a different tinge to it. But the hum was still there, even if it was in an altered key. Emília Nussbaum paused for a bit, and Renzo wasn’t sure if she was done or not.

 _“Hey, you know English, right?”_ she asked. _“Just for convenience’s sake, we all use English at HQ. You might as well get some practice in. Besides, all this_ –kun _and_ –san _stuff gives me a headache.”_

“Did you really just call me to taunt me?” Renzo asked. “True, it may not be considered desperate, but I’d say this is at least impatience, right?”

_“A little bit of impatience can be tolerated everywhere except for relationships. People are so self-righteous that they tend not to appreciate being forced past their limits when they don’t have to… At least, that’s what I remember having to think once.”_

Renzo snorted without meaning to. “I think you should stick to characters that are more like the real you,” he advised, even though he didn’t have any room talking like that to a superior. “Hearing you get all philosophical takes all the charm out of you, Emília-chan.”

_“Like it worked out for you back home, right?”_

Now that…was nothing but a low blow.

Renzo focused on where he was going, taking the route to the base’s helicopter hanger. Whatever staff was left was gathering, and would disappear without a trace. Not wanting to be left behind at such a critical juncture, Renzo upped his pace, footsteps echoing in the now empty halls. Though nothing had changed, they managed to look completely different than when he had led Izumo through them.

 _“Okay, okay, I know the place is gonna be swarming soon, so I won’t tease you for too long.”_ Emília sounded like she had given him a great favor to be proud of. _“But I’ve given you enough hints that I’m starting to get tired of this, you know. One more time, Kid, any guesses?”_

Renzo gripped onto his phone harder. The person on the other end of the phone was Emília Nussbaum, he knew that much, but it wasn’t a name he had heard until earlier in the day. That was the first time, too, he was sure of it. But it was her voice that he recognized, her voice…

_A situation where you learn a person’s voice but nothing else…_

“You were my contact!” The realization hit him so suddenly, Renzo shouted. Whether or not it surprised Emília, he couldn’t tell, but there was no immediate response outside the phone line, so it hadn’t alerted any of the True Cross. He was pretty deep into the base by now, and they had just arrived. “Before, all those times I got checked on for information. It was you.”

He expected a teasing affirmative of some sort. All he got was the line going dead.

Renzo didn’t stop walking. He couldn’t. But he knew the floor plan well enough to steal glances at his phone, navigating to his call history. While he hadn’t really expected otherwise, the display’s _Blocked Number_ was still disappointing.

_But did she…just laugh before hanging up on me?_

He almost ran into the door of the hanger, punching in the access code as an afterthought. The sounds of wind being chopped to pieces by helicopter blades assaulted his ears, and he more saw than heard his boss calling for him. Renzo ran to the helicopter, jumping in and strapping himself to the seat as fast as he could. It was a much more dignified retreat than being knocked unconscious by his own summoning.

“Is that all of us?” he asked, looking over the hanger. The whole place looked abandoned, and it was easier to tell as the helicopter gained elevation. Renzo had been half expecting Emília waiting for him, just in time for another game of Make the New Kid Feel Uncomfortable. Then again, he hadn’t heard any helicopters in the background of her phone call, either…

“You’re the last one,” his boss replied, her seemingly ever-present pout not leaving her features. If anything, she looked more bored than usual. “Everyone else is already gone. We’re reconvening on the _Dominus Liminis_. The Commander will address us there.” Behind her glasses, the woman’s eyes glanced to Renzo’s lap, where he was still clutching onto his cellphone. “Were you expecting someone?” she asked.

Renzo loosened his grip and relinquished his phone to his pocket. “No, not really,” he said. It got him a disbelieving stare, but Renzo didn’t care. His boss probably had more important things to worry about, and, true enough, she let it go. Renzo stared blankly out the window, not really seeing anything before or after the glass.

 _Figure it out._ It was a simple, childish challenge. It was meaningless, too. But something about the fact that Emília was an intelligence officer made it different. Renzo shouldn’t have had any pride for such a thing, but as a spy, it made him want to know. He wanted to prove that he could find it out. And if it built up some familiarity with the Illuminati’s information networks, then so be it.

“Hey, Boss, does where we’re going have access to our intel?”

She gave him a sidelong glance, deadpan as ever. “It does,’” she replied. “Is there something you need?”

Renzo shrugged, keeping the gesture as nonchalant as possible. “Not really,” he repeated. “I just figured it would be a good way to kill time.”

* * *

Emília Nussbaum plucked her index finger across the keyboard, not taking any gesture faster than necessary. A lot could happen in a long course of travel—especially if you were on an airship large enough to host at least as many people as the average cruise ship, movability included—but she didn’t feel like rushing. She had only been lucky enough to get her own private quarters, so there was no need to show any sense of efficiency.

The eleven keystrokes it took to spell “Shima Renzo” took almost an entire minute. It was erased in seconds by a single prolonged hold on the backspace key.

She already knew everything she needed to know about him. It was the first thing she did whenever someone new was assigned to her: dig up every available spark of information, then dig _further_ , learning so much about them that she could _infer_ what they were thinking easily. It had been a bit harder since the Myodha Sect wasn’t as paper crazy as other organizations, but whatever gaps Emília had had in her information were filled in when she had spoken to him.

He was definitely a kid. While he had some talent, there was experience missing. A year just wasn’t enough time to develop this sort of skill. Spying was easy. Balancing the right amount of attachment and willingness to abandon was the difficult part if you let yourself know what it was like to live without controlling such a thing.

His guilt was obvious the moment he had failed to kill the Kamiki girl’s o-kitsune familiars.

He didn’t yet know how to completely abandon them.

Of course, being a kid had its own merits, too. As a child, you weren’t yet complete. As a child, there was still plenty of room to grow.

“He could really be something with the right training…”

Emília snorted. Talking to herself? Really?

What a ridiculous burden.

It didn’t make the statement any less true, though. If anything, what Shima Renzo held was _potential_. And in that case, Emília wanted to be the one responsible for cultivating that potential. She wanted to know what such an experience was like. And since the opportunity was there, it wouldn’t be hard to sway things in her favor.

Emília closed the lid on her motionless computer screen. Almost everyone should have been back by now, so a meeting would get called soon enough. Lucifer would manage to emerge from his bedridden state to make an announcement, and things would get rolling forward from there. Being late would only call attention. Right now, subtlety was the key.

She stood up, stretching out. She could smile easily.

“A little fun isn’t too bad, huh?”

* * *

Renzo’s cellphone rang and he almost jumped. He had been trying to sleep, but it wasn’t easy. Even though the engineers had claimed otherwise, he still felt like there was turbulence. It was probably just his stomach rolling, but he like the other explanation better. Even digging through information hadn’t been able to make Gedouin’s death any easier.

_And I’m the one that told Rin he had to be ready to fight humans, too…_

Trying to swallow the grimace, Renzo answered his phone.

 _“How have you been, Shima-kun?”_ It was Mephisto. Of course. If anyone needed him from the Illuminati, they would have just come and got him. Only someone from the True Cross would need to give him a call.

“Remind me how I even have service when I’m probably over the middle of the ocean right now?” Renzo asked, fully sitting off and shrugging of his jacket. He had laid down in his uniform and had just realized how uncomfortable it was.

The True Cross Academy Headmaster laughed, which didn’t make Renzo want to sleep any more. It definitely wouldn’t be easier at least. _“I upgraded your phone as a special gift for your mission, Shima-kun,”_ the demon said. _“You should be grateful that I made this so easy for you.”_

It seemed, lately, that there were a lot of things Renzo _should_ have been feeling.

He was supposed to have abandoned all forms of contact with the True Cross. Even keeping his cellphone was dangerous. True, the camouflage worked backwards, too, but if someone realized what was happening, it would be trouble. And while Renzo wasn’t really afraid of the consequences, they definitely would have been a pain.

“Yeah, so what’s this call about?” Renzo walked to his door, double-checking the lock. It would at least give him some time to come up with an excuse if someone overheard him. “I thought I was supposed to contact you when I found something interesting to tell you. Changing the plan without telling me is pretty unfair.” Not that it really surprised Renzo that much. The headmaster was easily one of the trickiest people Renzo had ever encountered.

 _“That’s because I had news that I figured you’d be excited to hear. And I didn’t want anyone complaining if the chance came up and I didn’t tell you right away.”_ Renzo stopped himself from swallowing, leaving behind an uncomfortable lump in his throat. It was easy to picture the headmaster’s grin. _“At this juncture, we’re at quite the critical point, Shima-kun. If you want to pull out, this is your chance. The deeper you get in, the harder it will be to make a…clean break, per se.”_

Renzo almost agreed without thinking it through. Backing out really was the easiest thing. Sure, everyone at the cram school would be angry with him, but they would forgive him once they heard the whole story, right? Anything would be easier than having to go through with this, than being responsible for his decisions.

He stopped, though, and his hesitance was obvious, prolonged. He had wanted to see what he was capable of, to test his skills. Infiltrating to this point and then just backing out? That wasn’t a test. It was a crappy demo that wasn’t even worth experiencing. It was worth less than nothing. He clenched his fist, and the sound of leather escaped. Shifting the phone to rest between ear and shoulder, Renzo discarded his gloves to the floor.

“I can’t back out now…” he murmured, but had no doubt Mephisto had heard. “I got to dig around their information a bit, but I haven’t found anything worth letting Bon and the others let them think I betrayed them. Besides, you made it sound like I had a better chance than the others at getting critical intel. You can’t be serious about pulling out even a pawn like me this early.”

Renzo could have sworn that the headmaster sighed. _“It’s less about my judgement and more respecting your decisions.”_ Renzo didn’t even try to hide his breath of a laugh. _I simply know that your friends and family would be rather dissatisfied with me otherwise, so it’s better to tell you. Whether you stay or go, it’s up to you. Though it sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”_

Renzo hated phrases like “make up your mind.” They made things seem so final when they were flexible enough that staying up on their own was issue. It also made it feel like he had a lot more responsibility for himself than Renzo was comfortable with taking credit for.

“I just think it’s the better decision. That’s all there is to it.”

 _“Hoh?”_ The headmaster sounded too amused for anyone’s own good. _“In that case, should I tell your classmates, then? I think they’ll be more assured to know everything that you’re doing is of your own will and not because I forced you to.”_

Renzo smiled a bit—the first smile that came all on its own in a while. “No. I don’t want them to know. We agreed that having too many people in on it would just make an information leak, right? Besides, I don’t trust Okumura _or_ Bon to keep their mouths shut.”

_“Funny, I would think that Moriyama-san would also make it onto that list…”_

“Moriyama’s cute so I could forgive her.”

At that, Mephisto burst into laughter. It hadn’t been meant as a joke, but Renzo could understand. It sounded like a joke, even to him.

Renzo switched the phone to his other ear and say back down on the bed, finally kicking off his boots. “But I’m serious. They don’t need to know anything about this. We can let them know when I actually do come back. Until then, it’s better for all of their acting skills if they actually believe that I’m a traitor.”

_“That would have been the preferred course of action had your brothers not already told them the truth.”_

Renzo let out a soft curse. Of course, they had probably come with the Kyoto relief squad. And then Bon would try to do the noble thing and tell them that their little brother was a traitor…and they would stupidly drop the truth. It was so predictable that Renzo should have figured it out on his own. Then again, he had also gotten distracted.

 _“So then, it sounds to me like you’ve managed to catch onto some sort of lead, perhaps?”_ the headmaster prompted. _“Is it exciting, then? Anything we should immediately know about here? I understand discretion, but too much secrecy would be inconvenient, correct?”_

“No, nothing that big yet.” Still feeling hot, Renzo pulled off his pants, too, going to lie down. It was a lot easier to relax without the weight of the uniform, and that had probably been his problem in trying to fall asleep before. Now all he needed was some magazines, and it would be even easier to relax… “It’s just that I’m in a prime position to really dig up some dirt soon.”

He tossed his pants aside, the discarded fabric scattering the papers concerning Emília Nussbaum.

* * *

It was easy.

It was too, too easy. Memorize a few words and suddenly everyone thinks you’re like them.

It’s almost exhilarating, how easy it is to fool people like that. It’s scary, too. After all, what if you’re being easily fooled the same way? Just how fragile are you?

_Just how fragile do they realize they really are?_

It’s easy to think of yourself as surpassing others. A little bit of knowledge builds up a lot of ego. You start to think that if you can read other people, then there’s no way they can read you. Then you’re dealt a fatal blow as someone sees right through you.

So you work on improving yourself. You become self-aware, close in all your gaps, _never let anyone get past_.

Rote memorization is easily the least impressive of techniques.

* * *

“We will guide the world to unity.  
“There are no demons and no humans.  
“Only one world.  
“In order to create it, we are the brave humans who have risen to the occasion.  
“No matter what the trial, we do not go astray.  
“ _We do not fear death_.”

* * *

_It’s so easy for people to fool themselves._


	3. Chapter Three

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Three

* * *

Comparing the flexibility on the _Dominus Liminis_ to the main base was almost unfair, like the sheer size dictated that main HQ was deserving of more awe, forget every little thing that was impressive about the high functionality of the airship, which Renzo was pretty sure was far past any current world technology. There were probably folks from the American branch that would try to boast about that latter, but Renzo hadn’t really met or tried to interact with any of them. The entire trip back from Japan, he hadn’t been given any real summon other than the initial conference with the members of the Eastern Laboratory, and had had no real orders other than that.

It had been the perfect slot of time to escape without any fuss, just like Mephisto had said. Now, on the ground and in the heart of the enemy, getting to any other place in the world seemed like some joke of a dream.

Renzo clutched onto his cellphone, hoping to get some sort of support. It was his Illuminati phone that rang, the cheerful chime of its text tone making him tense up.

While unknown, the number wasn’t blocked this time. Even if it had been, Renzo had the obligation to answer when summoned anyway. Before taking any action, he saved the number to his contacts, hoping that this wasn’t a dummy number. Once he confirmed that, he would memorize the contact, eliminating the chance of anything critical escaping if his phone managed to make it to enemy hands.

_[Hey, we’ve landed for at least half a day. You have to be settled by now, right? I think it’s time that we put you to work, Kid. Just how well do you think you have the layout memorized, huh?]_

That sort of message could have only come from Emília. Renzo was certain of that. Given that she hadn’t sent any other clues, it probably meant that she meant for him to come to the Intelligence Division, given that was supposedly her own workplace. He had at least a general layout in mind of the place, so while he may not be able to find her personal workspace in just one shot, Renzo was pretty sure that he could at least make it to the department on his own.

His ringtone set off again, this time a longer tone—a pop song he knew that Izumo-chan liked—signaling a phone call. After the two days of relative non-contact on the _Dominus Liminis_ , he seemed to be suddenly popular with the Illuminati.

“Hello,” he said, once again not recognizing the number. It was better to just play the situation safe then, speaking with as much politeness as possible. “Can I ask who’s calling?”

 _“Shima,”_ the caller answered, and Renzo stiffened far too easily. It was one thing to be in Lucifer’s presence and hear him interact with others. It was another to have him speak to you directly, even if it was over the phone. _“Greetings. I trust that you’re settling well?”_

“Yeah, I’m doing just fine.” His room was barren, a blank dormitory cut and pasted from a blueprint. It would take a lot for it to start feeling like home, and Renzo wasn’t yet sure if it would be worth the effort. For suitable cover, certainly, but just how deep was we willing to let this charade run? Maybe it would have been better if Mephisto hadn’t given him the option to run…

 _“I’m calling to inform you of a simple matter.”_ With his voice focused on Renzo’s ear, it was easy to hear the wheeze of illness in the demon’s voice. Lucifer almost seemed fragile. _“After hearing further appeal, I have approved Emília’s request to return you to work with the Intelligence Department. Please keep up the good work, Shima.”_

It felt like a delusion and a daydream mixed into one; somehow the result was for the two to become reality. The idea made Renzo feel a bit lightheaded, but he made himself stand up anyway. “Yes, Commander. I’ll do my best…”

The hesitance in his tone felt like nothing less than a fatal blow.

_“Yes… I’ll let you return to work, Shima.”_

And just like that the leader of the Illuminati hung up, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Renzo paused for a minute, then put his phone aside so he could put his boots back on. Afterwards, he made sure that he had any important belongings on him—his k’rik, both his first and second phones—and tried to match his assumed layout of the base with where he was.

He shut the lights off on the way out of the room.

_Just who was supposed to be the enemy again?_

How deep was he really willing to go with this whole thing, anyway?

* * *

Finding Emília’s office was actually the easiest part, given that she had the biggest one. Renzo wasn’t quite sure if he could call the place messy or organized. Sure there were papers everywhere, and one entire wall was reserved for pin ups of what looked like everything from papers to photos to restaurant menus. But there weren’t exactly any clusters that seemed to have been tossed aside at random. At the very least, the place looked _occupied_.

Perched on armchair next to a coffee table, Emília leaned forward, tossing up a smile and a small wave. “Not too bad, Kid. Your time’s impressive for someone who just got here, and that’s saying something for me.” That was easy enough to believe.

“But not good enough,” Renzo admitted. He had managed to get lost at least a few times on the way, and had taken embarrassingly longer to get back on track. Once he was dismissed for the day, Renzo planned to take some time to actually get a proper feel of the place. “It’s not very good if I can’t make it to my own place of work without issue, is it?”

Emília shrugged, waving her hand at another chair around the table. “That sort of thing I’m sure you can figure out on your own, Kid,” she said. Renzo took the invitation to sit down, and Emília leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “So, want to tell me what you managed to find out in two days’ time?”

Renzo wasn’t surprised at all by the comment. She had challenged him to find information in the first place, so of course she would want to know the results. He hadn’t gone so far as to memorize every last bit of her file, but all the major details he could recall easily. “Emília Nussbaum is the head of the Illuminati’s Intelligence Division, a position earned only after a few years in the organization. You were seventeen at the time. Pretty impressive.”

Emília didn’t even bother to hide her satisfaction. She didn’t give any additional comments, but that was almost like a taunt in itself.

_Is that really all you’ve got?_

“I probably shouldn’t pry too much, but you’re currently nineteen. Your birthday is November sixteenth… I managed to find your measurements, too, but I think I’ll keep those my little secret for now…” She didn’t react to the bait at all. It was different than Izumo’s _tsundere_ and Moriyama’s sheer unawareness. “But about your promotion. You started pretty low and performed a series of successful infiltrations into several True Cross facilities. Half of the information we have on them is thanks to your reconnaissance, directly or indirectly. Still, despite your expertise in the field, you were appointed to be the department head by Lucifer himself. The former head hadn’t made nearly as much headway and proceeded to step down…”

“All of which can be found by easily accessing the Illuminati’s data bases,” Emília concluded. “While there’s quantity, I’d call it a pretty dry first dive, wouldn’t you, Kid?” She leaned over her chair’s armrest, digging into a bag. Once she sat back up, she had something in her hands, which was immediately tossed Renzo’s way. “Let’s not have you wasting paper on meaningless investigations, okay?”

The object Renzo caught was a tablet. It was pretty small, just the right size to fit inside his jacket. He stopped just short of turning it on, knowing that could wait until later.

“Your last name is a fake.”

Emília’s mouth stopped short, her half formed word not even making a proper sound. Renzo kept hold of his good momentum, continuing forward before he got steamrolled again.

“It’s not too much, considering that I couldn’t find your real last name,” he admitted. “But there’s no Emília Nussbaum outside of the Illuminati, am I right? Hehe, I managed to get someone pretty special as my new boss, huh?”

Her eyes had widened for a second—the expression was actually pretty cute on her features—but Emília really was a cool individual. No wonder she had successfully made so many infiltrations without getting caught. Still, she managed to look superior all over again, even though Renzo was technically the one who had scored the upper hand this time around.

“I wouldn’t say the name does anything special for me,” Emília said, waving it off. Maybe it was a stupid hope, but Renzo wanted to give his discovery more merit than that. “I don’t really have a proper family name, so I just picked one out. I think it sounds pretty cool, don’t you?”

Renzo couldn’t resist taking a jab. “Just what nationality is that supposed to be anyway?”

“If you’re doubting my authenticity, I’m sure I can speak the language just fine.” Emília narrowed her eyes, as if waiting for a challenge. Renzo didn’t issue one. “But in any event, I’m here now, and so are you. So let’s make the best of it, okay?”

Renzo relaxed back into his seat. It seemed the Illuminati didn’t spare any expense when it came to their Intelligence Division—or maybe it was Emília that did the splurging. “So then I take it I did enough to pass your little hazing test?” he asked, sounding more hopeful than he should have. It wasn’t like she would kick him out—she had gone through all the effort to convince Lucifer to have him transferred back. Still, this whole situation hadn’t been meaningless.

Emília didn’t answer, though. Looking back to her, Renzo saw her typing on her own tablet. He quirked an eyebrow, but she didn’t respond to the gesture, her answer coming without making eye contact. “I’m getting you a desk moved in here,” she said. This will be a lot easier if I don’t have to go back and forth to your own cubicle all the time. What a pain in the ass.”

Renzo couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Isn’t that favoritism, Boss?”

“Emília is fine.” She didn’t deny the accusation, though. “Now let’s start by showing you how to cover up a data trail that even _I_ can’t find…”

* * *

Suguro Ryuji had probably clenched his fists so hard that the knuckles had turned white by now. He wasn’t sure for certain. Things had moved on in their own way—school had resumed, exorcist cram school classes had picked back up after a rather poor joke on Rin’s part—but Ryuji really hadn’t.

_No, it’s my fault._

That didn’t make it feel any less like Ryuji was the one to blame. Even though Kinzo and Juzo had explained everything, Shima just running off felt like something someone had to take the blame for. And if there was anyone that had the biggest unwanted influence over Shima’s life, Ryuji was the one in prime condition for that position.

So even though he should have been studying, Ryuji sat on his bed, leaning against the wall with his eyes shut, trying to think of _something_ he could do to make things better.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

That was Konekomaru for you. Ryuji finally opened his eyes and even forced his hands to relax. The young Miwa head was standing by, two steaming mugs almost covered up by too-long sweater sleeves. Ryuji reached out, taking one of the mugs and drinking from it without checking the contents first. It was hot, but it was easy to ignore the burn on his tongue in favor of the flavor. The tea was perfectly balanced with what little sugar he liked to have.

That really was Konekomaru for you.

The smaller boy sat down, and Ryuji scooted over to make room. Absently, Ryuji stared at the bookshelf that separated his chunk of the room from Shima’s. They were quiet for a few moments, the Suguro heir lost in thought.

“I’m serious,” Konekomaru repeated. “I know you, Bon. Even though there’s nothing to really be at fault for, you’re taking it on yourself anyway. But everything’s going to be alright. I’m sure that Shima knows what he’s doing.”

There was plenty to take the blame for. He was supposed to be the _kaname_ , the support. And while it was logical to not let any information leak when you were trying to be a spy, Shima should have at least confided in him. He _should_ have. Why didn’t he just say something? They could have worked through things together…

“He’s an idiot,” Ryuji said, even though that much was obvious.

Konekomaru laughed, though it was a short, breathy, and definitely weak sound. “Yeah, he is. But, you remember when we were kids, right? How he would always come up with stories to get us out of trouble.”

At that, it was Ryuji’s turn to snort. “Yeah, and they worked on everyone except Mom.” They had all gotten smacked over the head on more than one occasion, and it had never been easily, either. Still, Ryuji couldn’t say it was a _bad_ memory… The boys laughed a bit more, quiet. “Why is he…such an idiot?”

“I don’t know,” Konekomaru said, all mirth gone from his voice. “But I don’t think he can help it. That’s how he’s always been, right?” The boy tried to form a smile, and his lips made it that far. The only thing that ruined it were the tears.

Ryuji reached forward, plucking the glasses of Konekomaru’s face. “If you cry while you’re still wearing these, you’ll get them all dirty…”

Even with two people inside of it, the room still felt empty.

* * *

_At seven years old, Renzo had already figured it out. Fibbing was something that the other kids did: to a teacher when they hurt another kid on the playground, his siblings when they stole a snack from the kitchen. It was easily done, and easily seen through. And it wasn’t like Renzo was a bad kid, but there were things he would do that he knew would get him in trouble, and that meant fibbing was necessary to get out of it. But to get out of it, you had to be really, really, good._

_He didn’t yet understand the difference between a “fib” and a “lie.”_

_All he really knew was that he didn’t get caught._

_Other kids noticed, but they didn’t really get why. It was only Konekomaru and Bon that had some vague idea, and that was because usually if they got in trouble, it was together. And it was Renzo that was the spokesperson in those occasions, getting everyone out of trouble._

_Always…_

_Always?_

_He had been proud to help them out. When had he stopped caring about that? When had he just wanted to run away? When had he gotten sick of everything? When had he decided that hating everything was the only answer?_

When did you lose all sense of flexibility?

_It was no good. He couldn’t do it. Not anymore. He wanted to think he could change. Sometimes, he did change. But, really, he was stuck in a rut._

* * *

_“Renzo!!”_

* * *

_When I was a kid, huh…_

* * *

_“Thank you all for trusting me!”_

* * *

_I guess I didn’t think about much at all, did I? I wonder how I ended up thinking too much…_

* * *

_Even unconscious, Izumo was really light in his arms._

* * *

Renzo opened his eyes, surprised at how slow he managed it. It hadn’t been like this up to the _Dominus Liminis_. Sleeping had been easy. Somehow, he had managed to be relaxed. He had managed to shut off every part of his brain and move on, only turning it back on when it was time to wake up.

Renzo forced himself to sit, then stand. He didn’t feel like sleeping anytime soon. Besides, a few hours would be enough to keep him going. When he had been trying to do extra research on the True Cross and Izumo at the academy, he had pulled plenty of all-nighters. He knew his own limits.

He staggered to his room’s connected bathroom, catching his balance on the edge of the sink. He reached out a hand, turning on the lights around the mirror, then turned on the sink. Cold water shot straight towards the drain, and Renzo gathered some in his hands, splashing it towards his face and drenching his hair.

He didn’t raise his eyes to meet his reflection’s.

* * *

No one really knew what the causes of dreams were. Some theorized that they were memories organizing themselves, or the desires of the subconscious. If you looked at them that way, then that meant that nightmares could be the desire to punish oneself.

Deep twisted dark things…they all came from humankind. Nothing else was certain, because these sorts of things came from the human heart. That was what people should have been afraid of. All of the sorts of terrible things in the world came directly from other people.

Not just other people.

The worst things came from the self. Because it was the self that knew almost everything that one could be afraid of. It understood everything. It was this understanding that led to the worst possible outcomes.

In that case, who needed dreams anyway?


	4. Chapter Four

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Four

* * *

“So in the end, the whole point of the Eastern Research Branch was to look into methods of rejuvenation, with the hope that the affliction on the Commander’s human host could be reversed. Of course, Gedouin was actually looking into immortality as well, in hopes to be more useful…” Renzo slumped over his new desk, pushing his tablet aside. “Is it just me, or did Gedouin not think things through at all?”

“Of course not.” Almost disinterested, Emília’s fingers continued to scroll across her own tablet. Her eyes flitted back and forth, but Renzo wasn’t sure if she was seeing anything in front of her. “He wasn’t trying to help anyone out. He was a pathetic man who couldn’t do anything but crave the affection of others. He convinced himself that he was special, but it wasn’t enough. He tried to switch himself so that someone else would complement him. In the end, he created an idealized version of the Commander, and then destroyed himself pining after a fantasy.” She paused, her finger hovering over the screen. “Like I said, it’s pathetic.”

Renzo felt a tightness in his throat. “That’s a bit harsh, wouldn’t you say, Boss?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” the woman rejected, instantly. She made eye contact, a sudden flash of bright green. “Everything I said is completely true. And I told you, ‘Emília’ is just fine.”

Renzo chuckled. He couldn’t really help it. He had made the joke of her being his new superior, and now _–chan_ just didn’t seem to cut it at all. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologized, not wanting to be on the receiving end of a glare. “But the good news is that all the corruption is internal, and mostly centered on Gedouin. There were no outside leaks, and anyone who could have been a potential problem was abandoned at the base.” Renzo sat up again, leaning backwards in his chair. “I guess that this assignment’s closed up, then. Unless you noticed something while you were there…?”

Emília was already working on her computer again. She did shake her head though, her hairstick beads swaying into sight for a moment. “You’re all right. We can hand your research off to Arlie, and xe can just take of things from there.” Her frown deepened, and Renzo leaned forward.

“Don’t frown like that, Emília-chan,” he sang, “you’ll get wrinkles that way.” It was a familiar jab he had shot at Izumo before, and it felt strange to have someone else’s name in it.

“I will not. I take plenty of care of my own skin.” Renzo raised an eyebrow. That was a more defensive reaction than he had expected. “But since that was your way of asking, I’m a bit stuck in what to have you do. Officially, we’re supposed to compose all the data you collected on the True Cross and Kamiki, but there’s nothing wrong with multi-tasking. I just wanna have an assignment for you that isn’t completely dull desk work.”

Renzo nodded absentmindedly. It wasn’t in his place to argue about these sorts of things, so he would take what he could get. Besides, just reporting information was boring, and a proper assignment sounded interesting.

“You would think that with war being declared, there would be plenty of interesting things to do.” Emília continued messing with her tablet, each touch on the screen now admitting the small sound of a barely audible tap. “But it looks like everything else is confirming information or agent placement. True, those are important, but how dull can you get?” She tossed the tablet aside, landing on a nearby couch. “You don’t want to get caught up in anything lame like that, right?”

“I guess not.” To be honest, Renzo didn’t know what he wanted to do. Sure, that sounded boring, but so did just sitting around. It had only been a few days, and he was already tired of talking about the True Cross. “But I mean, it’s your call, right, Boss? I’ll go along with whatever you think is right.”

Emília looked up again, but this time she actually seemed to be seeing him “Whatever _I_ think is right, huh?” she said. Renzo didn’t exactly feel a chill, but something shook him the slightest bit. “Well, putting that aside, you’ll just be stuck on desk duty with me for a while. I don’t feel like sending you to do things that are below your league. Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s fine.” While boring, there was one perk; namely that Emília was probably the cutest boss that Renzo could ask for in a group of world dominating idealists. Especially once you started to consider that people like Gedouin were also part of the Illuminati. “But you sound pretty bored yourself. You don’t want to go out into the field?”

Emília’s smile turned wistful. “Yeah, fieldwork is what I’m best at,” she said. “Well, you know all about that. But that’s how things are; you’re good at something and everyone wants you to be in charge of other people who do it.” She shrugged, relaxing back into her seat. “I guess I can’t complain too much, considering what all I’ve been working on. But you have to wonder if letting people be in charge of things is so they can’t get any better at it, huh?”

That was an interesting theory. “Do you think that’s true?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter if it is or not.” She looked to the side, toying with her hair again. “Because when it comes down to it, I don’t let other people stop me from doing the things that I want.”

Perhaps the fact that her expression didn’t change was the most concerning thing of all.

* * *

Once again, Renzo sat down in front of Arlie Nikita. It was like he spent most of his time sitting in the other agent’s office, talking until his mouth was dry. The whole time Nikita would just transcribe everything Renzo had to say, asking for the occasional elaboration. Xe was the reason that Renzo didn’t have to spend all of his time building reports for submission, and he was sure that was the reason that Emília spoke so highly of the bigender third-in-command.

“So what are we talking about today?” Renzo asked. He hadn’t quite gotten the hang of all the terminology yet—as if English pronouns weren’t ridiculous enough—so he tended to speak as ambiguously as possible. Emília picked on him for it, but Nikita never commented, so Renzo supposed he was in the clear for now. “I’m sure you’re tired of hearing me talk all the time, but let’s do good work today, Nikita.”

“It’s not any trouble at all,” Nikita said, attaching xir own tablet to a small keyboard. Emília had gotten enough budget leaning their way that all officers had access to them, and all higher officers had personal ones. It made the fact that Renzo had his own a bit uncomfortable. Just how much faith did Emília have in him again? “Today, we’re supposed to begin the discussion of Lord Satan’s son, Okumura Rin.”

Renzo blinked. “Okumura-kun, huh?” Thinking back to the meeting he had listened in on, it did seem like Lucifer did have an interest in him. “Well, he’s definitely a character, then. What do you need to know?”

Nikita shifted xir wrist, toying with the several string bracelets there. It was the only action xe took in these sessions that didn’t have to do with the workload in question. “Anything at all is helpful, as always,” xe said. “But in this case, the Commander is interested in anything relating to Okumura Rin’s powers and their manifestation.”

Renzo wondered how to report this the next time he came into contact with Mephisto. It wasn’t unusual to be interested in Okumura—he was the son of Satan trying to be an exorcist. But when it came from one of the nine Hell Kings, there were probably different motives at hand. But even with that being the case, asking about what powers Okumura had seemed oddly specific.

“Well, I don’t know how much I actually _can_ tell you,” Renzo admitted. “He kept his powers secret until Golden Week. And even then, all I know is that he was practicing how to control his flame.” And with Shura, too, the lucky bastard. “But in Kyoto, he made a temporary contract with Ucchusama, and defeated the Impure King that way. He’s gotten some sort of control, too, because plenty of people were caught up in it and not hurt.” Renzo spread his arms out. “Yours truly included.”

Nikita didn’t give any sort of recognition other than xir typing. “How prominent would you say his demonic features are?”

“Well, when he draws Kurikara, it’s pretty obvious.” The image from the Exwire training camp was practically burned into Renzo’s memory. “His ears are elongated, you can see fangs, and of course his flame shows. And there’s something in his eyes that’s definitely not human.” It felt bad talking about Okumura that way, but it was an accurate observation. “But without Kurikara? You can hardly tell. The rest of us Cram School kids were convinced he was perfectly normal for a whole month. A bit of a dork, but normal.”

Renzo remembered it a lot more clearly than he would have thought. Part of him wanted to say it was for the investigation—if he was supposed to be a good spy, he _had_ to remember. But beyond that, Renzo could easily say he remembered because it was enjoyable.

“And, well,” he continued, trying not to get too lost in thought, “I’m sure you guys know all about his physical stats and stuff. He sucked at schoolwork, but was really earnest when things got rough. He never let us down, since we were his friends.” And Renzo had abandoned him just the same. The fact that it was just a ruse didn’t actually make it any better. “I guess you could say…the exact opposite of what you would think a son of Satan would be like.”

Nikita tapped xir tablet’s touchscreen a few times, then resumed typing. There was a prolonged silence, and Renzo waited his turn.

Which is what he normally did. But for some reason, talking about Okumura made things seem a bit wrong. Back at Inari, Lucifer had said it was just fine to leave both of the Okumura twins as they were; no death, no capture. They had to be gathering information on him for a purpose. Renzo shifted, resting his forearms on his knees. “This seems like a pretty specific line of questioning compared to normal.”

“And that seems like a pretty lame attempt at getting information out of me,” Nikita retorted. Renzo’s eyebrows shot up. That was the first time he had ever heard the stenographer take the offensive. “Are you honestly that incapable? Boss chose you, and here you’re pathetic.”

Renzo held up his hands in defense. “Whoa there, I was just making a comment.” Inside, he felt ashamed. He should have known better than to use such an amateur fishing technique on another Intelligence Division member. “And you don’t have to tell me twice. Emília-chan goes ahead and berates me at least twice a day.” For the sake of argument, he left out all the unfounded faith she seemed to have in him, too. Besides, a person could only get called _Kid_ so many times before their self-confidence took a hit.

“Is that so.” Nikita’s tone didn’t relax any, but it seemed more from a sense of control than any sort of continued irritation. “You wouldn’t think it for all she talked up about you. She said you were brilliant at True Cross Academy. Wouldn’t stop talking about it.” Renzo’s cheeks heated up in a flush of pride. It was nice to have a girl openly compliment him for once. “But I really don’t get what’s so special about you.”

“Hey there, I’m just as confused as you are.” Maybe playing the amicable route would make this whole mess easier. “If I knew just what she thought was so great about me, I would actually do something with it. Then again, she doesn’t seem to know what to do with me, either.”

Nikita shut xir tablet, closing the screen over the keyboard and setting it aside. “Well, if you’re that out of the loop, I guess I can give you something to work off of: _potential_.”

Renzo waited for the explanation, until he realized that had been it. _Potential_ was the key to this, why Emília seemed to think so highly and so lowly at him at once. He wasn’t impressive now, but he could be? Renzo wasn’t so sure about that, but he would take it in consideration. Maybe once Emília stopped waffling and actually let him out of the office, he would properly believe it.

“Now,” Nikita said, “since you’re done wasting my time, there are several more questions to get through today. Don’t be a disappointment.”

Renzo could at least get behind that sentiment. “Alright. Bring it.”

* * *

As it was, Izumo was still having a hard time adjusting.

Everything should have been alright. Tsukumo was alright, and the Pink Head hadn’t really been trying to hurt anyone—just infiltrate and gather information. Still, the assurance hadn’t been in much detail; Izumo wasn’t fully convinced that the other Shimas were just keeping things quiet for the sake of security, or if they had no idea what their little brother was running around doing.

Either outcome wouldn’t have surprised her much, but Izumo’s pessimism tended to lean her towards the latter.

Paku, on the other hand, seemed to only have smiles left. After one relieved burst of crying when Izumo had come back to the dorm, everything had been alright, like she was too happy to worry about anything else. Izumo couldn’t really blame her friend, but it was still scary. Like how Paku’s withdrawal from the Exorcist Cram School had negated her need to worry about Shima.

“Izumo-chan,” Paku said, waving a hand lightly in front of the other girl’s face, “don’t space out so much. It’s time for lunch, you know?”

Izumo blinked, nearly jumping out of her seat. On her desk were her notebook and pencil, open, but not even used. She had spaced out through another class, _again_. It had been the same thing day after day since they had returned from Inari—Izumo would get lost in thought and completely forget that she had an education, conventional or otherwise.

Sensing her friend’s worry, Paku put on a soft smile. “Still tired, huh?” she said. That had been the excuse Paku had made for Izumo, and the latter didn’t have the energy to argue it. “No need to worry. You can borrow my notes, and we’ll work on the homework together, okay?”

Inside, Izumo grimaced. Who knew just how much homework she had missed for the day? She had Cram School today and practical training, too, and while Moriyama was willing to help, her assistance was more enthusiastic than Paku’s, and less actually helpful. Exhaling, Izumo gathered up her things, making sure to put everything back in its place. “Thanks, Paku,” she said.

Paku smiled, then tugged on her friend’s arm, leading Izumo out of the classroom. “It’s no problem. Now come on, you’re not gonna wake up any if you don’t eat, Izumo-chan! You need to take care of yourself, okay?”

Dislodging herself from Paku’s grip, Izumo let herself fall into step. They headed towards the courtyard, where the two girls usually ate lunch. The weather would start to get chilly soon, so every student seemed set on enjoying the sunshine while they can. Just as equally many were stationed under trees, using the shade so all they would get of the outside was fresh air.

_Hey, Izumo-chan, you have any idea how to make someone stop seeing demons?!_

That hadn’t been that long ago, had it? It didn’t feel that way, though. Izumo knew it was understandable; she had changed in Inari, probably the best way she had changed in years. But for everything before to seem like it had happened a long time ago, and to someone else…

“Izumo-chan,” Paku whispered, dropping her lunchbox in favor of wrapping her arms around the other girl’s shoulders, “don’t make that face. It looks like you’re about to cry.”

But Izumo didn’t think she could cry anymore.

Even if she could, she certainly wouldn’t let it be over that idiot.

* * *

Maintaining a sense of self was difficult, no matter who you were. It’s unavoidable that other people will put expectations on others; they will wholeheartedly insist in their hearts that another person will match up with their perception of them. And when they don’t…there are two options.

The first is a pleasant sort of surprise. People can feel enjoyment to learn something new about someone else. They can think, _I’ve learned something new, so that means that we’re closer. Our relationship is now stronger._ It can be argued that this is the preferred method, but it can also be said that one has to have a strong attachment to another already before they are willing to have this reaction.

This attachment allows them to see new things in a positive light. They have already considered that this person may act outside of their expectations, and like them enough to accept them.

The second is a sense of betrayal. How could they not have known this? How could the other not match up with the way they were believed to be? _How dare they? How dare they, how dare they, howdarethey?_

People respond to betrayal in different ways, but the core essence is really the same.

In that case, it was better to never stray from others’ expectations. To lay out cards on the table right from the get go, and anything that was left out—it wasn’t allowed to exist anymore. It was better off forgotten. Then you play the game, remembering who knows what, and never running astray.

But reality is naturally hard to keep track of. Stories are easier. So then the solution to everything was to make up a story and keep track of the pieces, hide some from some people, show some to others, but never, ever, being fully honest.

And the real self? That sort of thing could just be discarded.


	5. Chapter Five

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Five

* * *

“So you actually got Arlie to snap at you? That’s amazing.” Emília grinned before letting out a spluttering of giggles, just under the radar of grabbing attention. Then again, the rest of the cafeteria was so loud that Renzo doubted that anyone would have noticed if his boss had just burst out into laughter. Wielding a fork in hand, Emília pointed it at the face of her subordinate across the table. “Actually, I think that’s a first. Xe never gets angry around me.”

Renzo could theorize that was because Nikita probably was a suck-up around xir boss, but he would keep that theory to himself until he got more proof. The last thing he needed for today was Emília criticizing him on another weakness of his skill set. “Well, I guess I know better now,” he said instead. “I’ll keep all discussions between me and… Nikita focused on work for now.”

Emília only smiled. “The word that you’re looking for is ‘xem,’” she provided. Renzo tried to put it into his memory, but the only thing that got burned at all was his face heating up. What was this even supposed to be? Did he really cave under pressure this easily? “Come on, I know English is your second language, but you can’t trip over it that easily. If you can’t do a little language acquisition, we’re only gonna be able to use you in Japan, and that won’t do shit considering that the entire True Cross there has to know your face. You did make quite the splash at your little cultural festival, you know?”

“Are you saying that English isn’t your first language?” Sure, she had a bit of an accent, but Renzo just assumed that was regional.

Emília only smirked. “Nice try.”

Okay, so then a different tactic was necessary here. “But what you’re really saying is that you haven’t found a suitable job for me yet,” Renzo retorted. In a week, he had learned that Emília didn’t really mind friendly banter, despite the rank gap. For the first time, though, his words managed to make the girl grimace. Renzo was too surprised to feel proud.

“ _As a matter of fact,_ ” she said, then made a conscious effort to unclench her jaw, “I decided that I was getting tired of you just piggybacking off of orders. So instead, I’m going to have you look over all of Arlie’s recent data reports from major contributors, and then you can make some calls on where we need to focus our efforts. Information weak points and time-wise priorities. Oh, and I want you to consider your own flaws and talents and decide what you want to work on next, and, if you really want to impress me, you can go ahead and pick out an assignment all on your own that you think will help with your improvement.”

Renzo processed the information a few seconds later than he probably should have. It was the necessary blow to make his jaw drop open. Disinterested in his panic, Emília scooped up a rather large lump of curry from Renzo’s plate and dropped it into the boy’s mouth.

She hadn’t included much rice in the bite, either, and he spluttered, snagging the glass water he had almost forgotten to get earlier. “You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed, not quite sure which atrocity he was talking about. “That’s something insanely big, right? That’s the sort of stuff _you_ handle, not people like me.”

“Calm down, Kid,” Emília criticized, causing Renzo to actually consider what was going on. “It’s a practice exercise. Since there’s nothing available for you otherwise, I want you to take a more analytical approach to your intelligence skills. I know it’s not ideal, but I’d rather have you do this than just be idle.” Knowing her feelings on the matter of desk work, this really had to be the only option. “Besides, have my own plans for our next moves. I just want to see how yours stack up.”

Renzo swallowed, gripping onto his glass too hard. “And the stuff about me picking my own assignment?” he asked, hoping that was just a practice exercise, too.

Emília’s smirk answered the question, though she verbalized it anyway. “Like I said, it’s time for you to start working on your own improvement. Once you start to understand yourself better, there will be all sorts of options out there.” She tapped his forehead with a finger before pulling back. “And while your willingness to follow my lead is cute, you really need a better pick-up line. By the way, put that on your list of things to improve and see what Arlie really thinks of you.”

“Right…” Renzo said, taking a mental note to _not_ get any more on the bigender’s potential bad side. He was pretty sure he didn’t need to know any more of what Nikita thought of him.

It was better to focus on more pleasant things, like just how casual Emília was with him. She had touched him, even if briefly. Her skin had been soft, just like her words.

But no matter how gentle it had been said, Renzo was _definitely_ sure that he didn’t need to know any more of himself, for better or for worse.

* * *

The Illuminati wasn’t just limited to their base, having significant control over the surrounding town. They promoted themselves as the Illumination Foundation, and nobody in the town even batted an eye when members went into town in uniform. Emília preferred to avoid such scenarios, so she removed her Illuminati jacket from her layers, traded her pants and boots for a more casual set, and headed out into town.

Her legs might not have been perfect, but she at least knew how to show them off in the right way. She wondered what the Kid might do if he saw her. Probably laugh nervously until he could come up for some excuse as to why his ears were turning red all the way to the tips.

She could have borrowed an Illuminati car, but it wasn’t that far of a walk, and she wanted to stretch out at least some. Spending the entire day on desk work was bad enough, but she had also stayed overtime at that.

Reports were coming in daily concerning the True Cross’s defenses. Most branches had gone and updated their security after the Commander’s declaration of war, and several third-party exorcist unions were doing the same. Everyone was on edge for an attack, which was probably why the Commander was pacing things slowly. No one would probably drop their guards, but it was much more likely that the Illuminati would be exploiting a minor, unexpected opening.

Which was where the Intelligence Division came in. Most agents didn’t realize it, but it was their job to find that opening.

Emília didn’t really care much about that. She didn’t care much about her job, either. Bringing Gehenna and Assiah together. Who cared? A job was a job, and that was that. If there was a better offer—which was unlikely—Emília could do it, too. She would do whatever job she needed to do perfectly, even if it meant getting put into a position where she couldn’t do much besides paperwork.

In about fifteen minutes, Emília had made it to her intended location—a hole in the wall restaurant with foods from nearly every European nationality on the menu. She wasn’t too picky about her food intake so long as her nutrients were balanced, but Arlie tended to have localized cravings that would be better satisfied by an away mission to the country in question.

Emília stepped inside, making her way to the corner of the bar right up against the wall. What could have been a snug fit in other restaurants was instead cozy, given that, while popular enough to keep running, didn’t attract too large of a crowd at any given time. Arlie was already sitting there, and Emília dropped into place beside xem.

“You’re pretty late,” xe commented, and Emília dismissed the concern with a wave of her hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you work so hard, Boss.”

As any superior officer would, Emília stuck out her tongue in response. “I always work hard. I think you mean, ‘I’ve never seen the higher-ups demand so much at once.’ I just don’t want someone like Miss Glasses storming in on ‘the sake of the Commander!’ and making a big mess because she didn’t get some file or whatever. Like, seriously. I’d rather just put in some extra hours and save myself the headache.”

Arlie put a finger to xir lips. “But what if she comes in complaining that you’re building up too much overtime?”

Emília dropped her head down to the bar, letting out a long, “Aaagh! Doesn’t she have anything better to do? You have a job, right? Why don’t you do that? Seriously, she seems to spend all her time crawling up the Commander’s ass, why doesn’t she—”

“Excuse me?” Arlie waved a hand, leaning over the bar. “Master? Two rounds, please?”

Emília looked up, cheek pressing against wood. “You know I don’t drink, Arlie.”

“Yeah, I know. They’re both for me.”

Emília snorted and sat up. “It’s been a while since we’ve been able to just joke around like this,” she said, finally paying attention to the menu card. Considering her nutrition needs, she started to eliminate possibilities.

The bartender deposited the requested drinks in front of them, then retreated. It was a pretty casual place where you could just shout out whenever you were ready. Arlie coddled the first of xir drinks, burying xir face in the mug before responding, “That’s ‘cause you’ve been spending all your time with the new kid.”

It was one thing to think of Shima Renzo on her own; having someone else mention him tended to bring the words into a new perspective. “You say that like you’re jealous,” she teased. “For someone that can pull off an infiltration mission so easily, he hasn’t really made any other friends. I’m just helping him out.”

“He doesn’t have any friends because you monopolize all his time,” Arlie corrected, and Emília guessed that was right. She hadn’t really even given him much of a choice of what to do at lunch, and security cameras had him retreating to his room whenever he was off. “I’m sure if you dumped him into the lunch room all alone, he’d find some skirt or another to chase. That is, if we actually had skirts.”

“Are you trying to complicate your own wardrobe choices more than they already are?”

“There’s nothing complicated about wearing whatever I want.” Arlie stared at xir drink for a bit, and Emília let her own gaze wander. Was it wrong for her to mess around with the new kid? Especially whenever he had so much potential, just kind of waiting to get out there. “If you’re gonna take off one of the kid gloves by giving him that ridiculous assignment, just go all the way with it.”

Emília couldn’t help but smile. Laugh, even. She was pretty proud of herself for coming up with that one. “What, is it too much?’ she asked, even though she knew the answer already. If she couldn’t give him an assignment fit to his aptitude, she just needed to apply a serious amount of pressure instead.

Arlie set xir drink down, only halfway through it. Xe didn’t get drunk too fast, but xe still applied enough moderation to remain sober while eating. Still, two drinks from the get-go meant that someone would need carried back to the base tonight, and it certainly wasn’t Emília. “He came into my office looking like he was about to cry,” Arlie reported.

Okay, maybe she had gone a bit too far. But it was too late to pull back now. And, besides, Emília really wanted to see the results. “You’ll help him out, right?” she asked, resting her head on the back of her hand.

“If that’s what you want.” Arlie’s generally peaceful expression wavered for a second—not enough to be serious, but less than complacent. “You’ve never really been like this before. Just what are you trying to do, Boss?”

Emília shook her head, the familiar clattering of beads signaling the end of the discussion. “Enough about work,” she said, knowing that Arlie would listen. Emília flashed her subordinate a reassuring smile before raising a hand and her voice. “Hey, Devi, I’m starving! Let me order already!”

* * *

Yukio stepped into Futsumaya, still feeling definite weight over his shoulders. As if things hadn’t been stressful enough, with the Impure King and the Illuminati—not to even begin with the stress his eyes were causing—Shima’s defection only had added to the psychological stress. Even knowing that it had been a ruse hadn’t taken that weight away, and he had seen that in his students.

No, they were not just his students. In Inari, they had been his _team_ , and he had been trusted as their leader.

“Oh, Yuki-chan!” Shiemi’s bright voice reached his ears, and Yukio tried his best to smile. He had been expecting the girl’s mother instead, but was able to make the attitude adjustment with ease. If there was one person he couldn’t make worry anymore, it was Shiemi. “Come to get supplies again?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, stepping up to the counter. Shiemi had her schoolwork spread out, both for normal and exorcist classes. Yukio wouldn’t be surprised if she handed him an assignment for the wrong class tomorrow, but whatever helped her study. “Actually, your mother said there was a shipment that came in for me, so I think everything I need should all be together.”

Shiemi shot up into a standing position, looking all the world like she was about to face plant on the ground. “Okay, just let me run and get it!” As promised, she ran to the back of the shop, leaving Yukio to idle in the entrance. After a few minutes, Shiemi returned, box in hand. “Here you go, Yuki-chan! Oh, the total, the total…”

Yukio retrieved the money from his wallet, offering it out. Shiemi tendered his change out from the register, then just stood there, starting to fidget. Yukio waited for her to say something, but she stayed silent. “Um, is something wrong?” he ventured.

“Yuki-chan…” Shiemi wrung her hands together before finally meeting his eyes. “There’s something I want to ask you!”

“That’s fine.” Yukio almost recoiled from the force of her words. Looking back to the front counter, he guessed, “Is it help with your lessons?” It wasn’t too bad of a conclusion. After all, Shiemi had never had schooling before, and putting a regular course load on top of exorcist training had to be a challenge. Which was why he was thrown off when Shiemi shook her head.

“No, I’ve been doing fine.” Her expression made the message clear: _I’ve been working hard, so please don’t worry about me like that anymore!_ “It’s just…about Shima-kun.”

Yukio felt himself tense up without meaning to. He hadn’t really wanted to talk about this right now, but if Shiemi was asking, he couldn’t really refuse. Nodding, Yukio moved to sit down in front of the counter, and Shiemi blustered around for some pillows. Once they were both settled comfortably and Shiemi’s homework was shoved to the side, the girl silently exhaled.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve just been so confused.” If Yukio was reading the situation right, then everyone was. Confused and depressed and worried. Not even Rin, who was generally too carefree for comfort, had sobered himself a bit. “At first, I didn’t really get it. I thought, ‘Shima-kun likes Izumo-chan, there’s no way he would hurt her!’ And so, I guess I just went along with everything because I thought it had to be a joke.”

Yukio was impressed. The whole time, Shiemi hadn’t let anything like that come to light. She had even successfully defeated her opposing chimera zombie. For a Tamer, focus of will was an essential. For her to be wavering and still produce such successful results…

“But the way he talked to us,” Shiemi continued, her voice quiet, “it wasn’t a joke was it? That moment, I thought I understood. But I was so relieved we got Izumo-chan back that it didn’t really settle with me until later. And just when I accepted it, that Shima-kun wasn’t coming back to us…” She trialed off, and Yukio didn’t blame her.

He had gone through a similar thing. He had accepted the responsibility, and then he braced himself to tell Shima’s family, only to have them reveal the opposite.

“I feel guilty…because I should be relieved. It seems obvious, but I can’t do it.” Shiemi placed a hand on her chest. “I feel all muddled inside, Yuki-chan. Am… Am I a bad person…?”

Yukio wanted to do something—anything to help Shiemi feel better. In his lap, his hands twitched at the thought of holding hers. He fastened them to his pants instead, settling for eye contact. “You’re not a bad person, Shiemi-san,” he said. “I…” He swallowed. Was it alright to show this weakness to someone he was supposed to be a leader to? “I’m also very confused right now. It’s a lot to take in. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

He couldn’t tell whether or not her tears were from sadness or relief. But through her soft sobs, Shiemi managed to pronounce the words “Thank you.”

Yukio decided, that as a friend, being open like this was perfectly fine.

* * *

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he was scared.

At first, this had seemed like his choice; _he_ was the one who had made the call to some along, to accept the responsibility. The second that someone else spoke up; either giving tasks or saying how much they believed in him, he would start to wonder:

_Is this what I really want?_

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure anymore. He hadn’t made any decisions that could possibly lead him. He was supposed to be acting as himself now, as a pretense for his infiltration. And yet…

“Just who am I again?”


	6. Chapter Six

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Six

* * *

“Shima, I’m certain the Boss cares absolutely nothing for my precise grammatical choices,” Nikita said, allowing a dose of irritation into xir voice. “If you wish to finish in time, I suggest we move on?”

Renzo was more than apprehensive at the moment, his stomach doing a strange dance between a tango and river dance. The first stage of his assignment—analyzing all of the gathered information and producing a plan from there—had been a lot easier than he had thought. Tedious, yes, but relatively straightforward. And Emília had offered him Nikita’s help, so Renzo wasn’t sure how much of the project was definitely from his own merit; the third-in-command had been growing the slightest more verbose, offering of insights that Renzo would have never been able to come to in his half-month of personal Illuminati experience.

It was the second half that he had been procrastinating on for nearly an hour: the cause of Nikita’s latest input. Renzo was scared of looking at himself critically, considering how others saw him. There was how he _wanted_ them to see him; that was easy, the key factor in his determining actions. It was the implications of the discrepancies that put him on the verge of a cold sweat.

Glancing aside, Nikita muttered, “It’s only by facing things we don’t want to see that we can grow as people.”

Renzo looked up, feeling his eyelids stretch apart.

“I don’t believe that the Boss is trying to mess with you,” xe continued. “Listen, she’s personally invested in you, though I don’t really know why. Anything she does is going to be in your best benefit, even if it doesn’t seem so at first. She made me do this exercise when she was considering my promotion. It…changed me, but I wouldn’t change back. So don’t hold yourself back. If you don’t want me to transcribe for you, I won’t anymore, and you can build this report on your own. As long as you can write legibly, the Boss really won’t care.”

A slow waltz pivoted Renzo’s stomach acid. Despite Nikita’s increased talking frequency, this was the first time Renzo had heard anything relatively personal from the bigender. Before they had been colleges in the vaguest sense of the word. But this sort of admission stepped beyond the boundaries of normal encouragement.

_This is…intimate, a personal admission, an indicator of a bond._

_Connection._

“No, it’s fine,” Renzo said. He retrieved his own tablet and the pen that came with it, swiping open to the notes application. Nikita looked in the verge of raising an eyebrow. “Even if I kept it private, I think Emília-chan’s trying to turn you into my handler or something. Let’s just get it out of the way and air the dirty laundry, so to speak.”

Renzo tapped his pen on the tablet’s screen, blotting it with a small spot of virtual black ink. Nikita only sighed, though. “Really, you’ve picked up on English’s oddest colloquialisms,” xe commented, but Renzo could still see the traces of a smile on xir face. “Still, if you want, I’ll keep anything we discuss right now to be private information between us and the Boss.”

 _I guess xe’s actually a pretty good person…_ Renzo allowed himself the slightest smile. He didn’t even have to think about the pronoun this time.

“Okay,” he said, more to psych himself up than anything else. Nikita waited throughout the prolonged pause, expression deadpan. Renzo grimaced playfully. “Sorry, I don’t think my ego can take just diving into the bad stuff about me from the get-go. Is it wrong to just start out with my strengths and go from there?”

Nikita’s hands were tapping away at the keyboard in an instant. “‘Needs to be more willing to accept negative thoughts about self…’”

“Hey now!” Renzo protested, though part of him wanted to laugh. It was a truth, one he knew held to most people. It was a common message in fiction to insist on “accepting yourself and feeling proud” or whatever, but it also sometimes made people blind. Feeling good about yourself too much could make you feel proud about things you shouldn’t. “I guess I really don’t feel good or bad about myself; I just sort of…feel? But it doesn’t really have a name…”

“In that case, I think it would be better to say that you’re ‘aware’ of yourself; at least on a minor level,” Nikita suggested. Renzo scribbled down _ryosho_ on his tablet in hiragana, then drew a few outward facing arrows around it. “It’s not a bad place to start. What we need to do from there is expand that awareness.”

Renzo nodded. “Preferably without destroying my self-image, though. Girls don’t like guys without confidence, you know.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Nikita said, and Renzo realized he couldn’t read what xir sense of sarcasm sounded like yet. “That being said, I think you should tackle your insecurities first.” At that, xe lightened xir tone a bit. “If you want to take a more roundabout route, though, we can work our way into it.”

Renzo held up the hand not preoccupied with his pen. “No, it’s fine,” he said. If he could say it enough, make someone else believe it, convincing himself would be a simple task. “I think having other people know that I’m capable of being a spy is what bothers me most. Because then, I think, there’s no reason for them to believe what I’m saying.” Absentmindedly, more hiragana were added to his screen.

_Nisemono._

_Usotsuki._

_Fake._

**_Liar._ **

“That’s actually a fairly common concern amongst rookie spies,” Nikita said. Xe didn’t hold back. Xe didn’t have to, because Renzo knew for sure, that he was a rookie, and no amount of talent could make up for it at the moment. “You’d have to be someone like the Boss not to even think about that kind of stuff.”

Renzo tried to think about Emília younger, less than seventeen but with the same pout on her face. For some reason, his mental image had her with ten-centimeter short hair, though he knew that hair growth rates didn’t work like that at all. “ _That’s stupid. Just because I can fool everyone doesn’t mean I’m going to. What idiot goes around deceiving their own team!_ Was that about it?” Renzo asked.

“Actually, I think it was closer to, _If you have enough time to be doubting your own sincerity, then why don’t you find a different line of work,_ ” Nikita corrected. “Then again, I wasn’t working here at the time, so I can’t say for certain, but that’s what the rumors say.” Renzo grimaced; Nikita only shrugged. “She was just impossibly headstrong. She always said she was just doing her job, but everyone always thought she was aiming for the top job.”

At that, Renzo had to shake his head. “No way,” he rejected. “She hates paperwork and anything that involves sitting around for more than forty-five minutes at a time. Having to do anything other than fieldwork would—no, _does_ drive her insane.” He may have only been here for two weeks, but that much, Renzo was certain of.

Nikita offered a smile. “That’s what I think, too.”

The connection twanged, having been plucked at but also reinforced. “But I’m nothing like Emília-chan,” Renzo said. He didn’t even feel hurt by the assessment; it was just a fact of the world. “So then I’m going to think too hard, become apprehensive. I may lose any desire to be honest, to start to lose the grip on the ‘real me.’ What sort of things can be done to counter it?”

Nikita’s finger swiped in the familiar motion of xem switching applications and loading documents. “Ideally, having a close friend that knew you before taking on spy work that can reassure you of yourself is the best. That sort of bond of trust can be critical.”

Well, that wasn’t an option. Bon and Konekomaru—who had known Renzo his entire life—were the best and only candidates. And they were in Japan, probably having crises. They probably weren’t sure of who Renzo really was any more than he was.

Reading his expression, Nikita moved on, “Secondly, you have people like the Boss. Their whole catharsis is self-fulfilled. They reassure themselves, claiming that their own assertion should be enough. Of course, most people can’t do it all internally like the Boss, and they use an external aid. Commonly, they take self-reflection time and determine the model that is their true self, and check against it often. Some even keep written records, though they take care to eliminate them obviously.”

That wouldn’t work either. There was too much going on in Renzo’s head to even begin putting it down on paper. And he knew for a fact that if he took some physical writing down, Emília would insist on seeing it. As a double agent, it was far too risky of a strategy. “Too much of a pain,” he said instead. “What else you got?”

“Well, depending on the severity of the case, some people just need a confidence booster—a minor mission that’s short, but still requires a façade.” Nikita slowly scrolled through his files. “The psychological reasons vary: ‘If people believe me when I’m putting my all into this, then why wouldn’t they believe the real me?’ for example. Usually the spy tries to make their infiltration’s personality as far from their own as possible, but the method’s up to you. If the mission comes out as a success, then there’s enough confidence to make everything better. If one go’s not enough, rinse and repeat.”

That wouldn’t be too bad. Besides, he needed to be in as active of a role as possible. So long as he was doing work, Emília would trust him with more. This would reinforce his infiltration of the Illuminati as well. “So then a minor reconnaissance mission with a set end date…” he murmured.

Nikita’s fingers were already flying, and it was seconds for the _New Message_ display to cover up Renzo’s scribbles.

In katakana, _deceit_ disappeared from view.

* * *

_Sagi-shi._

_His form was unstable, ever changing. He couldn’t keep solid. There was no one to watch him, and he disappeared in and out—lines colors, vague images of existence. If he were to watch the scene, Renzo was certain he would feel sick. It was actually a miracle that he wasn’t sick with how much he was getting pushed and pulled around._

_Calm. He needed to be calm. In a deep breath containing thousands of smaller breaths, he imagined his face. A laugh and a smile, a pick-up line tossed out without a care. An idiot with no sense of the world. That was how he was at school, how he had decided to be. A kid who desperately wanted to be cool no matter what the cost._

_And at home, with his family? A replacement. A place holder for someone he had never really met, having no choice but to be built up in the other’s image. A shield, meant to be for Bon. A knight. He had to laugh at that one. Him? A knight? He could never be that brave._

_Even “saving” Izumo had been false courage._

**_Courage?_ **

_Saving?_

_He was preserving the school self as much as he could. Some part of him missed it. Some part of it was because it was what he wanted to carry over. The rest was all a vague hope that he could still run away, go back, and pretend the whole thing had never really happened at all. But even if he went back, Renzo wouldn’t know what to do. These sorts of times were perfect for an image shift, right?_

_An excuse to remain unstable._

_Only one thing was solid for him, that he wouldn’t be able to just dismiss or rewrite. Hate. He hated everything. That’s what he had told Izumo, and he hadn’t been lying. He didn’t think he was. There was just a gouging war across his chest, and that had to be hate, right?_

_“So you hate me, right?”_

_Whose voice was it? Izumo’s? Bon’s? Konekomaru’s? It was someone, it was everyone. He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to talk to any of them, because they wouldn’t understand. He never wanted to see them again!_

_“If you hate everyone so much, why are you even bothering with this? Why don’t you just go and defect for real?”_

_Because that wasn’t the truth. He wanted to talk to them. He needed to talk to them so bad it make him want to cry. He missed everyone. He hated being alone. He hated being here with everyone else. He wanted to go home, even with all that it meant for him._

_He… There was no way…_

_“There’s no way you can hate everyone, am I right?” Defiant, Renzo turned around. He wasn’t going to just run away. He opened his mouth to respond, but stopped short, losing his breath, his vocal chords._

_There was a reason he always chose to smile: because he hated how dead he looked otherwise._

_“Because the only person you actually hate is yourself.”_

_His own voice, his own laugh, echoing in a distorted stereo._

**_Trickster._ **

* * *

“Kamiki. Can we talk?”

The last thing that Izumo felt like doing was talking. She had tried talking to Paku and ended up bawling in front of a large fraction of the school’s population in the middle of lunch hour. Nobody had called her out on it (probably from the force of her concentrated glare), but she could tell from the looks they gave her, even a few days later. Cram School, once the ridiculous bustle of idiotic energy she has learned to love, was now filled with a pile of awkward and depressed idiots.

One of those idiots which was Suguro Ryuji, who was trying to talk to her.

He looked odd without Shima in the wings, even odder without Miwa hovering under his other shoulder. Izumo didn’t think she would want to talk to him whichever way he approached her, but she knew for certain that Suguro wouldn’t take any form of no for an answer.

“Fine,” she relented. She would have to apologize to Paku for running late once she got back. “But not here. You better have picked out somewhere private ahead of time or I’m going home.” She didn’t know why she bothered with the bluff. Suguro would have never made a move without significant preparation.

“There’s a storage room downstairs that some of the teachers cleared out over summer,” he said with a jerk of his head in the direction of the stairwells. “They haven’t repurposed it yet, though. Should be clear.” Izumo didn’t say anything, just glared, and Suguro took that as his cue to get moving, the girl following in his wake.

She was regretting agreeing to this already, and they hadn’t even started talking. She already knew what Suguro would want to know: about the pink head, what he had been like, if there were any clues to him coming home. But she didn’t _want_ to talk about it, just let it all go and try to move on.

_But I could never hate you!_

Why had he said that?

Why did he have to be a hero and just leave her all alone again?

“Ugh, the least that shitty headmaster can do is give us something to distract ourselves with!” she exploded, just barely resisting the urge to kick a wall in passing. Suguro stopped, and Izumo guessed she should be careful; not everyone seemed to have gone home already. She really didn’t care. “Listen, I don’t know what you want to know, okay? I can’t talk about this! He said somethings—a lot of things—but I don’t know him like you do. I can’t tell you even anything you think I can. I have no idea if he was serious or if he was lying to me and I’m just sick of it! So is there anything _else_ you can make my week worse with?”

Izumo didn’t cry. She couldn’t anymore. She didn’t want to, though. She didn’t want to yell, either, but didn’t know what else to do.

“Listen, I…” Suguro sounded deeply apologetic, and Izumo hated it. Why couldn’t he yell back at her like he did against Okumura? Was everyone just taking things easier because she had been the one captured? “I don’t know a lot about him, either. When he talked to me, I could tell that much. I just want to know him better, so… please, how was he there? How did he act?”

Izumo clenched her teeth, her fist. Her jaw threatened to be stiff, to lock up and never open up again. She wanted to keep everything to herself, a wholly selfish desire.

“The same as always,” she said. “A complete and total idiot.”

* * *

Forging connections was easy. You just gave the other person the thing that they wanted to hear, and that was it. If you didn’t want to maintain a connection with someone, you gave them nothing.

Fussing over relationships didn’t make sense. After all, if you were serious about it, you would consider it early on, give yourself all the pieces you needed to win. Others might say things like, “That’s not even human!” but it didn’t matter. Being human was flawed.

As a human, there was no way to maintain relationships without making sacrifices, without getting hurt. In that case, not being human was probably better. Then it would be possible to do what was necessary, not bounded like silly things like morality and consideration. Not being human made it easier to please those that were, if that was the goal.

If the people around you then weren’t human, then you only had to act for the sake of practicality, the sake of results. That sort of life was much easier than pleasing humans’ shifting whims. Both were easy, but not dealing with humans was easiest.

Being human seemed like it would be the most unnecessary burden there was.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Seven

* * *

Renzo began his third week at the Illuminati headquarters with a yawn and Emília leaning over his temporary desk. She wasn’t glaring at him, but the height advantage still gave her an imposing aura. It was just too bad that the jacket portion of her layers was zipped to her neck, keeping Renzo from getting anything close to a nice view of her chest. He would settle for his still blurry vision’s rendering of her face.

“I knew it,” she said without any preamble. Renzo went to ask the obvious follow-up question, but was too slow to get anywhere. “Your reaction time’s been seriously slipping, and Arlie said you’ve been spacing out half the time. Ugh, you’ve got bags under your eyes, too, how did I miss that?” Renzo wondered why she cared about a barely filled information bag like him, then he remembered he was supposed to be the boss’s pet. “Here.”

A shake and the impact on his desk made Renzo realize that Emília had pulled something out of her pocket. Now in front of him was a bottle, the glass dark green and clouded to keep him from seeing inside. Tentatively, he picked up the bottle and it produced the tell-tale rattle of—

“Pills?”

“It’s a sleep aid,” Emília said, matter-of-factly. At her full height, she widened her stance with hands on her hips, elbows extended. “You’ve been tired, not sleeping. I should have noticed sooner, but things have been crazy, so I didn’t. That’s my own short-coming as a leader. But that being said, you take one of these, and you won’t even have any time left to consider whether or not it’s a good idea to lay down. That being said, try and at least sit on your bed when you take it, okay?”

The implications caught up with him, and Renzo shook his head, trying to force the bottle back onto its owner, who easily leaned out of his reach. “No, I can’t,” he said. Taking them would admit his weakness more than he already did, make it obvious that he couldn’t get over the nightmares he had been having on his own. “I don’t need them, really, I’ve just been busy with this project you gave me, so I pulled a few all-nighters.”

“ _Meirei da,_ ” she said, the sudden language switch throwing him off. Still, his native language resonated, and Renzo nodded blankly at the order. Emília continued in Japanese, “ _Don’t lie to me,_ Kid _. You’ve been spending two weeks straight with me, and I watched you in Inari. I may not notice everything, but I can tell this much. So do you want to try that again?_ ”

It was a hard tone in her voice, one he hadn’t heard before. Renzo liked the sound of her voice when she was taunting him better than this.

“Sorry,” he said, switching the conversation back to English. “Thanks a lot. I’ll be sure to use these.” He looked back to the bottle, then put it back in his pocket before he could start to think too hard. She didn’t use that sort of language much, but an order from Emília was still an order from a superior. “Sorry if this is prying a bit too much, but why did you have these on you?”

“Huh? I made them of course,” Emília said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“That means…”

“In True Cross terms, you could count me as a Doctor. Though, besides Demon Pharmaceuticals I did a lot of self-study, so I can make all sorts of stuff. Besides, if I go into the labs when no one’s around, no one bitches about what I make. And in a place like this, you don’t really have to deal with health regulations or anything, so it’s super convenient!”

That only made Renzo more nervous about the bottle of pills; he swallowed even though his mouth was dry, feeling his muscles scratch against each other. “Don’t give me that look,” Emília said. “I wouldn’t give you anything I wouldn’t take myself. I’m an Intelligence Officer, not one of those Science Division perverts.”

“Right…” Deciding he wasn’t going to get better at tricking Emília with his smile if he didn’t at least try, Renzo chuckled. “Though that brings up the question I was really getting at: Why do you have them on you?” he asked, part of him hoping that, maybe, she wasn’t as flawless as Arlie made her seem, that she had the same sorts of flaws that he did.

_That maybe she’s just as insecure as I am._

Emília tilted her head, sending a ripple through hair and beads. “Oh, that,” she said with such casualty that Renzo knew he hadn’t struck a nerve at all. “The thing is, I believe in getting a full night’s sleep, no matter what. But the workload’s been pretty busy lately, and sometimes I go to lie down and can’t stop thinking about it, which means it takes forever to fall asleep.” She put a hand to the side of her head and sighed through a scowl. “So I brewed up a stash that’ll just turn my brain off for me. I really don’t mind sharing, though.”

Renzo frowned a little. It hadn’t been that calculated of a movement, which meant she was actually being generous. It was an almost soft spot that he hadn’t seen before.

_It’s actually pretty cute…so she’s not just a knock-out beauty._

“Really, thank you,” he said, hoping that she wouldn’t think he was faking generosity.

Emília shook her head, then leaned forward, delivering a well-placed flick to the center of Renzo’s forehead. “Don’t get so worked up,” she scolded. “I get that you have some combat ability, but you’re an Intelligence Officer first. If we don’t take care of ourselves, then we’re not really worth anything. Your body’s key to participating in infiltration missions, so you better take care of yourself, got it?”

Ah, it had been a professional interest, then. Still, “You’re that worried about me, huh?” he teased. “Well, I guess that if you’re so concerned, then I can put a little effort in. Though, since you’re qualified, would you nurse me back to health? Ah, Emília-chan, you’re a cute girl, so you should wear a nurse’s uniform, kay?”

She smirked, a startling contrast from Renzo’s expectations. Almost shamed, he realized that he had been waiting for Izumo’s traditional outburst. Really, wasn’t a month enough time to get over a girl? In this case, he guessed not.

Still, that had to be more than a taunting smirk, right? Meaning, if the circumstances were right, she would actually do it…

“I do appreciate your enthusiasm, though,” Emília continued, not once faltering in her expression. “So I’ll at least respect your hard work and let you report to me first. I read over all your main assessments from Arlie, since that would be boring to report, so I figured I could spend time listening to your personal assessment instead.” Placing her hands on Renzo’s shoulders, she adjusted him into a proper upright position, then plopped herself down on his desk top, thighs narrowly missing his tablet.

“R-right,” Renzo stammered, not quite sure if he could get away with touching her leg in an excuse to get to the technology. Not quite ready to risk that much, he settled for enjoying the view of her thighs instead. “I think, right now, I’m feeling a bit unstable. Nikita said it came from an overconfidence in my abilities and getting placed in a new environment.” The only reason he gave that much detail was that it had been the whole point of the exercise, and Renzo wanted to spend his brain power on other things besides getting scolded. “From that standpoint, my current greatest weakness is detaching myself after performing an infiltration.

“So, I think field experience would be the best option. It could maybe be my inexperience, or maybe I’m just a coward, but maybe pulling off a series of smaller projects? In that case, there’s a hole in our information concerning a minor branch hosted in Britain that we’ve been considering closing in on.”

“Ooh, yeah, that is a better fit,” Emília said. She had mentioned beforehand that she would be developing her own theories as time went on, but it was still disconcerting. “You know enough English to function, so you won’t look completely out of place, even as a foreigner. And the whole point is to assess their information stock and eliminate them… Oh, though are you going to be okay with that?”

_If you’re going to fight in this battle, you need to be prepared to fight other humans._

Renzo nodded. It would be a test for him, but he would go through with it. He would have to if this whole thing was going to work. “I can do it. Besides, I’m sure there will be a backup team if I screw up too much.” In some ways, he was almost counting on it.

“Some people say that planning for failure is the first step in failing,” Emília said. “I, however, tend to disagree. If you make yourself be too confident, it can affect your psychological output, though the percentage is too low to be reliable. You may be a kid, but sometimes you have a good head on your shoulders.” She nodded, looking pleased. “Now go take a nap. In fact, you can have the next two days off. I’m not sending you into a mission half-dead, so your next mission is to get some sleep, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Renzo said, standing and taking wobbly steps towards the door.

* * *

Making it back to his room, Renzo knew he should be sleeping. He _wanted_ to sleep, tired of the pressure on his eyelids. But this was a golden opportunity, and, even with the next two days to himself, Renzo knew that the world of information was one of timeliness. If he wanted to get anything done, taking the effort to report now could make a major difference.

He was lucky enough that the dorm rooms didn’t have any cameras—at least, if they did, they were well hidden, and a sweep of the room with Yamantaka had been enough to clear that. Beyond that, given that nobody had burst in on him on the _Dominus Liminis_ , Mephisto’s altercations to Renzo’s Academy cellphone seemed to prevent bugging, alongside keeping the battery at full percentage despite not seeing a charger in weeks.

Renzo plopped onto the bed, removing his jacket and going to toss it aside. Something in his pocket rattled, and he pulled it out, finding Emília’s pills. He placed the bottle carefully on his nightstand, then finished stripping until he was comfortable in an undershirt and boxers. His uniform formed a pile on the floor—one he knew he would probably keep there until a panic the night before returning to work—and Renzo leaned back against his pillows, tablet in lap, cellphone in hand.

 _“It’s nice to hear from you again, Shima-kun,”_ Mephisto’s voice said, familiar in Japanese. Despite the speaker, hearing his native language drained a considerable amount of tension from Renzo’s shoulders. _“Judging by the fact that you’re not panicking at the moment, I’d say that things are going smoothly?”_

“I…” Renzo started in English, then swapped back to the familiar _boku_. Even when given the chance, Renzo hadn’t switched back before, but he had wanted to. It was the ease of the language that made him hesitate, worried that he might reveal something that he shouldn’t. “I’ve been doing pretty well. Things aren’t exactly inactive here, but for now everything seems quiet.”

 _“Yes,”_ Mephisto said, _“Lucifer always was the cautious one. Even in a declaration of war situation, he’s taking his time. I do wonder where he got that habit from. It certainly wasn’t from our father.”_ That…was a nest of information that Renzo could go without entering. _“I’m sure he’s biding his time, and the declaration was more to make his presence known than anything else. Still, he’s crafty, which is why I’m sure you’ve collected some interesting morsels for us.”_

Renzo powered on his tablet, double-checking his mass of files, making sure they were the most up to date versions. Most of the data updated on its own, and Renzo let the tablet run its own system checks. “I’ve gotten access to the main interface of the Illuminati’s data core,” he reported. Emília had granted it for his project, and she didn’t seem interested in taking it away. “I have a secure connection, too, so I’ll be sending it your way.”

He had to hand it to the Intelligence Head; she knew how to eliminate a data trail like no other, and had shown him trackable information bits that Renzo hadn’t even _known_ existed. He had mastered the skills early on, and would use it get rid of his data transfer to the True Cross’s proxy once he was done. The added benefit was that the Intelligence Division’s tablets were mostly untraceable, a function to make infiltration missions easier. That being said, it ironically made it easier for Renzo to infiltrate the Intelligence Division itself.

 _“Oh, that’s quite the impressive feat you’ve done there,”_ Mephisto praised, and Renzo let his ego accept the stroking. _“I knew you would be the right person for the job, Shima-kun.”_

Smiling, Renzo tried to play it humble, at least a little. “To be honest, I lucked out. The department head likes me, so I made it in a key place pretty quick. She’s even been giving me pointers.” Forceful lessons was probably a more accurate description, but it the result was the same.

 _“Then you made a wise choice, Shima-kun. I don’t think that any other agent would have had such luck.”_ There was a crackle, and Renzo assumed that Mephisto was shifting the phone, or, perhaps, adjusting the magic. It didn’t seem to impede the call any, though, so he ignored it. _“Although, getting taught how to deceive the enemy by the enemy… I quite like that.”_

Renzo chuckled, suddenly feeling cleverer than he had thought of himself before. “I figured you would,” he said. This sort of style was the kind the headmaster excelled in—Renzo had known that since the Exwire exam. The compliment gave him a sense of validity, probably fixed his confidence more than the upcoming mission would. Right. “I’ll actually be going on a mission, soon. Something small, and it’s against a minor opposition; nothing True Cross related. We really didn’t discuss this, but my orders in these situations are…?”

 _“You are to act as any Illuminati officer would,”_ Mephisto ordered, and Renzo had been afraid the headmaster would say that. _“We can’t compromise your position over something like holding back. If you wish to do any work at all there, you must give it your all. We are counting on you, Shima-kun. I trust you’ll be able to do what you need to.”_

“Yeah…” Feeling disconcerted, Renzo looked back to his tablet. All of his data was up-to-date, and he began the external connection to the True Cross’s proxy. “Okay, I’m sending the data packet now,” he said. “It’s got a lot of information, but I’m sure you’ll find something useful in it. Anything specific I should dig into this time?” Bored, he watched the transfer screen increase one percentage at a time.

A negative sound from the other line. _“Just continue as you have been. That should be enough,”_ Mephisto said, and Renzo wasn’t sure if the lack of direction made him feel better or worse. _“If we need anything specific, I’ll contact you.”_

“Got it,” Renzo said. “Want me to stay on the line while the data sends or…?”

_“That will also not be necessary. I think you should take advantage of your good fortune and get some rest.”_

And like that, Mephisto hung up, leaving Renzo alone with his thoughts and pixelated numbers.

* * *

What was this feeling? A sort of dissatisfaction had risen in his throat like bile, dancers churning his stomach again. It was a feeling that had subsided over a few days, only to come back in a startling amount of force. Renzo dropped his phone to the bed, pushing his laptop off his lap, and fell to the mattress on his side.

In the low light of the tablet’s glowing, he could barely make out the silhouette of Emília’s pill bottle.

Renzo squeezed his eyes shut, wondering if something like tears would come. He had gone into this for himself; it was supposed to have been for _him_. But the headmaster spoke as if he had a responsibility to others, like this whole infiltration mission was supposed to be for other people instead of what Renzo wanted to do.

And it was, he realized. No matter what he told himself, this entire situation was only possible because of Mephisto, because of the True Cross. Renzo would have never been able to do this sort of thing on his own; once he had gotten the business card, he had gone and shown it to his family instead of acting on his own. And now they were all pressuring him to do them some good.

Emília wouldn’t do that. Emília didn’t do that. She may have had other motives, but she let him do things for himself, _forced_ him to do things that he would have found excuses not to do otherwise. In her eyes, it was just a happy coincidence that the upcoming infiltration mission needed to be done. Her true intentions were in helping him improve himself.

He reached out to the pill bottle. Emília hadn’t given him any instructions on how to take them. Did he need food or water? How many should he take? Renzo considered calling her for the answers, but remembered his Illuminati phone was still deep in his jacket pocket on the other side of the room.

It was Emília, right? And she had made these for herself, so that meant they would work with the least amount of hassle possible.

Renzo fumbled with the lid, his thick fingers struggling to secure the pill, almost knocking the whole bottle over. He didn’t bother to replace the lid, bringing it to his mouth.

He paused, pill pressing against his lips. Was this really okay? Was it alright to cheat, just to get some rest? Could he really run away from everything he had left back home, back in Japan?

Whether or not it was okay, he took the pill, small capsule brushing against his tongue. Renzo coughed, a bitter taste searing down his throat.

Almost instantly, his eyes shut.

* * *

[ ]


	8. Chapter Eight

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Eight

* * *

Emília allowed herself to properly stretch for the first time in several hours; if she had to pick her least favorite part about intelligence work, aside from the paperwork, it would be having to sit still while traveling from job to job. It wasn’t so bad if the transport was spacy, like, maybe a boat or something. The _Dominus Liminis_ was pretty good in that respect she had to say.

Except the battleship was only to be used in special circumstances, like the evacuation from the Eastern Branch, and probably future major offenses when the time came. Dropping off a couple of Intelligence agents for a covert mission, even if Emília _was_ the head, didn’t count, so they had been shipped through standard transport all the way.

It was a short lived reprieve since she had sent the Kid to hail a taxi for the next stint of their trip, but her knees didn’t need to know that.

“Hey, Emília-chan, over here!” the Kid called, and Emília gripped onto the handle of her small suitcase, dragging it to the sidewalk. The usual bustle of airport traffic made navigation tricky, but she met up with her subordinate, who held the door open. Emília hefted her suitcase into the trunk next to Renzo’s, then got in for the ride.

In reality, they were going to a more remote pick-up point, outside the main city, where they would then meet up with their actual contact, which involved an even longer drive to the remote research base. Emília almost grimaced at the thought, but put her energy into closing the divide between them and the driver instead.

“So how are you feeling?” she asked. The Kid had spent most of the plane ride in pill-aided sleep, so she hadn’t even bothered to try and talk to him. The fact that he had even brought the bottle showed that he had probably found them effective, and would take them as long as he could. Emília let herself smile at that.

Renzo made a shaky eye contact, but kept up the connection nonetheless. “Nervous, for sure,” he said. “But when I focus, I know things will be pretty easy. And the whole point is to get in, grab the goods, and get out, so everything should be okay.”

“Good.” Emília made sure to watch his expression. He seemed pretty stable, so that bode good things, so long as he kept it up. The bags were vanishing from his eyes, too, which gave the impression that he was full of energy. “The key is to play our roles, which I already gave you the file on, so I’m sure you have it memorized by now.” She could see the tell-tale twitch of procrastination, and was glad that she had made it as easy as possible for him. “That being said, officially, we’re meeting for the first time.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Adelaide Hardy.”

Renzo blinked, probably at her shift in accent. “What’s that name, then, French?” he asked. “No offense, but can you even speak French, Emília-chan?”

“ _Ne pas poser des questions de sens,_ ” she retorted, rendering the Kid speechless. “Regardless, you’re missing the point. It doesn’t matter if Emília Nussbaum’s seen the file, because I—as Adelaide—effectively haven’t. All I know is that you’re another new transfer, and that’s about it. So then, may I ask your name?”

The Kid swallowed, then nodded. “Sorry, that was rude,” he said, taking a tentative step into his role. “I’m Sato Riku. I look forward to working with you.”

It was a good start. “ _Soshite wareware wa shimei ni tsuite issho ni hanasu toki?_ ” Adelaide prompted, switching to Japanese. It was his reaction time that was critical, above anything else on his execution.

“Ah… _Anata ga sesshoku o kakuritsu suru tame ni watashi ga matte imasu,_ ” he answered, speaking much slower than necessary. Frowning a bit, the new dubbed Sato turned his pout onto his colleague. “Ugh, _watashi_ is just so needy. Remind me again why I need to switch pronouns again?”

Emília crossed her legs, forming a resting place for her hands. “I find that speaking in a different pattern than what I consider my standard helps me immerse better,” she said. “You really need to adjust to being able to take on different roles since your last mission had you largely acting as yourself, a luxury you no longer have access to. That being said, you need to practice as much as you can. A nice, polite, hardworking Japanese boy should be a good place to start getting out of your own skin.”

The Kid looked a bit off put, but didn’t object, trapping a few strands of hair gently between his fingers. “Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted, losing control of his eye contact. “I guess I just gotta suck it up and get used to it. Not that it’s very likely that I’ll have anyone try to speak to me in Japanese.”

“I told you, this sort of thing requires _emersion_ ,” Emília scolded. “But I know you’ll do just fine at that part. The difficult aspect is going to be detaching yourself after living as someone else. But we’ll work on that as the time comes.”

“Right,” the Kid said. “As of now I’m just a transfer from one of the Japan branches. Though if you don’t mind me asking, how exactly did we pull that off again? Don’t tell me you made up some fake story with data from the Illuminati or something.”

Emília allowed herself a last smirk. “Don’t be silly,” she said, lightly hitting him on the arm with the back of her hand. “I spent life as a hacker once. Picked up some pretty handy skills along the way. It’s not as hard to make a compliant data trail in external severs as you think. It’ll even self-destruct when we leave, so nothing to worry about!”

She could read his expression just fine: a mix of awe and fear. She really could do without the second one, but she would take it. He looked back to her, this time not hesitating. “Um, by chance is the age I found on you fake as well…?”

“Sato,” Adelaide said, “I thought you said you looked forward to working together.”

The resulting swallow was audible. “I’m so sorry…”

* * *

If anything about the whole infiltration experience stuck out to Renzo, it was the fact that he got to wear casual clothes again.

He hadn’t really considered it much, but wearing a uniform all the time made your clothing choices blend together a lot. And while the Illuminati had no steadfast rules about needing to wear a uniform at all times, Emília insisted, though she allowed similar altercations to her own. Even Arlie kept xir sleeves rolled up, showing off tanned skin. Renzo had simply chosen to follow suit; it seemed like the best option when you were at the home base.

But that was thing: he hadn’t actually worn anything but his uniform. The underclothes he spent his time off in didn’t count. And even though Illuminati members were free to roam about as they pleased whenever they didn’t need to need to work, Renzo hadn’t engaged that privilege once. He had simply gone to work, gotten dragged around to meals by Emília, and spent the rest of his time holed up in his room, gathering information for the True Cross or failing to sleep.

So wearing casual clothes during his infiltration—especially ones picked out for a fake personality that wasn’t him—was sort of a shocker. It was definitely lighter than the Illuminati clothes, that was for sure, and he could feel the beginnings of fall wind nip at his skin through the lack of layers.

But more than that was Emília—though he supposed she was Adelaide at the moment. Sure, any chance at figuring out her assets was devastated by a large, unflattering sweater, but the skirt made up for it by showing off plenty of leg. It was all Renzo could do to keep himself from grinning and blowing his cover.

Jevrem Marin, a guy with mousy hair had received them in the car, and he gave a short tour of the facility once they got there. Though, building was more accurate of a word for the one-floor, fourteen-room space. It was definitely a localized operation, and Renzo almost wondered why they needed to come here in the first place.

Except they were researching counter-measures to the Illuminati’s Artificial Gehenna Gates, which could easily be problematic in the future.

_That’s why you chose this place anyway, because it seemed like the best course of action._

Renzo forced the thought out, though he couldn’t quite make himself concentrate on the abbreviated tour they were getting. He had memorized the layout from blueprints anyway, so it wasn’t that big of a loss in terms of information.

Besides, when was he going to get the chance to see Emília like this again, anyway?

* * *

_“The big boss? Going on a recon mission?” Renzo tried to keep his tone light to belly his surprise, but it wasn’t working out as well as he had hoped. For once, Emília was actually sitting at her own desk, tablet propped up by a stand, looking absolutely unconcerned by the feelings of her subordinate. “Isn’t that kind of…odd? You’re a department head, so, shouldn’t you, I don’t know, stay here and head the department?”_

_“The second-in-command is more than capable of filling my place,” she retorted, fingers tapping impatiently against her chin. “Who do you think ran things while I was in Japan with the rest of you lot? Besides, it’s only a week-long mission. I’m allowed to step out if I want.”_

_“Well, yeah, but…” They really weren’t the best words for avoiding any questioning of her authority. But Renzo had the feeling that part of what he had spent the last week on was more than just self-improvement. If anything, it also felt like leadership training. And while he had no interest in holding such responsibility, Emília wouldn’t just teach him skills she didn’t want him to use. “It’s such a minor mission,” he pressed on. “Is it really worth the effort? You could have someone else partner along if you’re worried, maybe even Nikita—”_

_Emília’s eyes narrowed, cutting the words short in Renzo’s throat. “Arlie’s set of skills as a stenographer are too valuable to replace with a mission like this. Xir output would be best spent here, and that’s that, especially at this critical of a time. And besides, putting you on a mission with a complete stranger?” She snorted. “You don’t have the skill or level of trust to pull that off.”_

_Renzo remained silent. Emília had always been a supportive sort of voice, joking and taking his opinions in stride, coated with enough salt to perform an exorcism. Was this really the sort of influence that it took to make her angry?_

Was it because I outstepped my boundaries? Or the way I said it?

_A sort of panic filled him. Losing his good favor could spell failure for the True Cross infiltration—he should have held this tongue. If Emília stopped liking him, where would he end up? Surely not tossed out of the Intelligence Division?_

If that happens, I’ll have to start over from square one. Both in my position, and my emotions.

_But all of that washed away from the second she smiled, a refreshing breeze filled with sea salt. “Besides, you know how much I hate all this deskwork. I made up some excuse about wanting to give you personal lessons, so the Commander approved this little field trip for the two of us.” That was enough encouragement for the corners of Renzo’s lips. “Come on, a trip with just a girl and you, isn’t that the sort of thing that you like?”_

_The laugh wasn’t faked; he actually felt excited at the idea. It didn’t matter if Emília was manipulating him into it—he wanted to feel happy. “So what you’re saying is that you think the same?” he tried, almost expecting encouragement at this point. “If you’re not careful I’m going to start getting work and romance all tangled up.”_

_Emília snorted in turn, which Renzo supposed he deserved. “I’m not someone that kids like you can play,” she said, dismissing his advances._ Still, _a part of Renzo conspiratorially whispered,_ it’s not like she can call you a kid forever. _“But I take it we understand each other?” Renzo nodded, and Emília lightly patted him on the cheek, just a few fractions of strength away from a smack. “Now no more silly objections. Let’s work on getting into character, shall we?”_

* * *

The brief skin contact still burned on his cheek; Renzo was glad Emília didn’t adhere to the Illuminati’s standard of gloves. The memory was whisked away by a similar pat on his shoulder, though the execution and effect couldn’t be more different: a bit too much extra force to be gentle; the slight shock interrupting his heartbeat.

“Sato,” a voice called, and Renzo just barely registered it as his current name. With the accent shift, it took Renzo a moment to recognize that Emília— _No, you dumbass,_ Adelaide—was the one making contact. “You were just standing there so I thought I would say something. Jevrem said to take time to settle in first…”

For a second, Renzo considered the possibility that maybe he would have the chance to share a room with Emília—then he remembered that all boarding was done hostel style with split housing between the males and females.

“Right, thanks,” he said, trying not to slip into familiarity. Already the thought of acting alone was causing him insecurity, a bubbling worry from having to treat Emília like a stranger, yet a reassurance from having her expertise close. She had been right; he really wouldn’t be able to do this mission with anyone else, and certainly not alone. “Well, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you…” The voice of Adelaide was quieter, almost timid. It wasn’t just her changed clothes and hairstyle that made her different, but also her voice, her body language… Walking in a smaller stride than Emília’s usual footsteps, she entered the women’s room. Making himself get a move on, Renzo entered the male counterpart on the opposite end of the hall.

_She really is a professional, through and through…_

Renzo wondered if, maybe, someday he could be like that. Not wanting to get depressed, he focused on his new surroundings. Several bunk and camp beds filled up the space, and it was easy to tell which were claimed by the smatterings of colored blankets and pillows. On the back wall was a line of dressers and wardrobes, one of which was opened to show off an assortment of bedclothes for the taking.

He surveyed the beds, and settled for one with a convenient outlet. Keeping his cellphone and tablet ready to function was necessary (Emília’s orders), and he picked out a bedspread without much consideration, his bunk looking like the sky had rained fabric dye at random as a result. He started to unload his belongings into an empty dresser at random, pausing at his phone’s vibration. It would be easy enough to cover their messages as contact with people at home, so Renzo went to check.

 _Going for the silent pervert this time, huh?_ Emília’s number taunted him, heading the text with pride. _Maybe we should work on your physiological responses. Your neck turns the cutest shade of red._

Without grace, the phone was shoved back into Renzo’s pocket.

* * *

Okumura Rin found that going to the roof of the old boy’s dorm was a good way to clear his head, and, at the moment, there was a lot to clear out. He didn’t want to think about all of it, which was why he had climbed the roof in the first place. Still, even with the chill of twilight reaching down, he still couldn’t find a good way to calm himself.

All things considered, he was actually doing pretty okay, if he did say so himself. Rin had always been that way, able to power on. It was why he had been able to make his lame impression of Shima for the rest of the class. The whole thing had been ridiculous, but _something_ had to be done to cheer everyone up.

The amount of silence was too much otherwise. It reminded him of the weight of Father Fujimoto’s funeral.

Frowning, Rin tried to just clear his mind, but it didn’t really work. That was too bad, a nap might have been good right now, no matter what Yukio would say about messing up his sleep patterns. Measuring his breaths, Rin did his best to let his eyes slide shut.

“ _There you are!_ ”

Like that, his rest was interrupted by paws connecting to his stomach. “Not now, Kuro…” he muttered. “Why don’t you take a nap with me…?”

“ _I am not your cat sídhe,_ ” was the reprimand, and Rin forced himself to crack open his hard earned shut eye. Perched on his chests was one of Izumo’s foxes, glimmering white even in the dusk. “ _They wish to speak with you. Do go to the dorm entrance so I may finish this undistinguished fetch job._ ”

“They?” Giving the fox time to dismount, Rin stood up, then slid down the side of the roof, bending his knees and using the drainage pipe to stop his momentum. Approaching the dorm were Bon and Izumo. Rin turned back to the fox. “Consider your job done. I’ll go talk to them. Thanks a bunch!” With reckless abandon, Rin jumped off the roof, just barely sticking his landing with the concrete, the impact jarring the entirety of his legs.

_Okay, just ‘cause I’m sturdy doesn’t mean things can’t sting. You think I would learn that by now._

He felt normal fast enough, though, and ran to meet up with his classmates. “Hey, what’s up?!” he called. Even though it probably wasn’t anything so lighthearted, Rin couldn’t help but feel a little bit excited. Before high school, he had really never had friends that would come to hang out. “Your fox said you wanted to talk, Izumo. Is something wrong?”

It was Bon who answered. “We want to talk to Mephisto about the Illuminati,” he said, sounding perfectly serious. “We’ve been dragged into a lot lately—going on that mission, being directly attacked. Izumo here was kidnapped.” The girl in question nodded. “It might be a bit out of our place, but we want to know what’s going on. If we’re going to keep getting dragged into this battle…”

Rin could sympathize—really, he could. Ever since he had learned about his father, he had been dragged into one fight after the next. It was definitely a situation where every now and then he wanted to stop and shout, “Hey, why _me_?” But the fact was that it _was_ him, and he would probably never get a proper explanation, so he would have to keep going.

But looking at Bon and Izumo, their serious, yet tired expressions…they made Rin’s chest hurt.

“Guys, I get what you’re saying,” he said, really hoping they believed him. “But can I ask something? This isn’t about the Illuminati, is it?” Their expressions told Rin everything he needed to know, but he pressed on, anyway. “This is about Shima, right? Listen, I don’t know why you think coming to me is going to help you talk to Mephisto any. Sure, I guess he’s technically my guardian now, but he sure doesn’t act like it.” The incident with the Grigori over the training camp had proved that much.

They both looked guilty, but it was Izumo who forced out the words, “But we—!”

“What about everyone else?” Rin asked. “Shiemi and Konekomaru and even Takara. They’re part of our group, too. They deserve to be involved as much as I do.” They were already involved; leaving them out would be unfair. And on top of that, Rin just didn’t want to go into this without his friends. “This should be a group effort. We’re more likely to get an answer out of the clown that way anyway. That’s the only way I’m doing this.”

Bon and Izumo exchanged glances. Rin didn’t know what they had talked about before, but he was sure there was some understanding between them. Izumo nodded, and Bon’s expression relaxed the slightest amount.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding more exhausted than Rin had ever heard him, “you’re right.”

* * *

In some ways, trust was crucial. Some people would argue you couldn’t get by without trust, and she could accept that as the truth. Sometimes, you had to completely and utterly trust a person. In less drastic circumstances, though, if you didn’t trust others, you wouldn’t be able to function in society. Just leaving the house involved trusting someone not to try and break into your home. Crossing the road at a green signal meant trusting another not to disregard the perpendicular red.

And, if you learned people well enough, you needed to trust them to act as expected, without the paranoia for betrayal or being hurt.

In other ways, however, trust was unnecessary. If you didn’t want to be hurt, you just didn’t trust anyone with the truth. You, again, gave them fake information that seemed real. You could create a false identity, and load it with faked trust from the other person. If you were trying to keep things concealed, you never let anyone get close to it. Ever.

In this case, distrust could create necessary isolation.

But, really, both stances were needed. If you didn’t understand trust—what it fundamentally meant _to trust someone else_ , you couldn’t make someone else trust you. If you were too distant, people would assume you acted unnatural. If you were too trusting, people called you gullible. You needed to learn to replicate trust without ever wanting to give it away for yourself.

The ideal was to trust someone, and have it torn completely away from you.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Nine

* * *

It wasn’t even four days before Emília texted him the signal to meet up—one that Renzo hadn’t been expecting to get until the week’s end. Part of his brain automatically jumped to paranoia. He hadn’t been performing that badly, had he? Sato Riku had easily made friends with his fellow coworkers, merging into the social life at the remote base much easier than Shima Renzo could even begin to think of at the Illuminati. Maybe it was a difference in attitude, but Renzo thought he had actually been making progress.

Instead, Emília leaned against the wall, her facial expression that of the Illuminati’s Intelligence Head. Already, Adelaide Hardy was gone, and Renzo knew what that meant. “You can’t be serious,” he said. “I thought that the parameters were set for a week. You’re saying that we’re—”

“Right now,” Emília said, tapping a finger on the air. “There’s no point in keeping them around any longer,” she reasoned, easily dropping Renzo’s heart into his stomach, his elevated pulse wreaking havoc. “We already mined their research as far as we can go, and I’ve nearly stripped their computers down looking for data. We even have access to their collective research server, so finding the other facilities is a done deal.” She forced eye contact onto Renzo, who was too stunned to look away. In contrast, her voice softened. “This is how things are, Kid. It’s always better to get out before you get in trouble. Every day in enemy territory increases your chances of getting caught.”

While it made him feel the slightest bit better about the current situation, the implications for his larger mission replaced the weight tenfold.

Renzo composed himself with great difficulty. If he had learned anything, it was that screwing up wasn’t an option. It didn’t matter whose sake it was for, because no one would be happy if Renzo screwed this up, and in that scenario he ran the chance of being dead. “Alright,” he said, his lungs taking liberties in his ribcage, shaking his voice. “But what about the backup? This is rather sudden, so are they even in position?”

“I requested it specifically,” Emilia said, pulling a hair tie off her wrist and refastening it into the familiar bun/ponytail. Brandishing her hairstick as if it were a weapon, the wood returned to its rightful place in her hair. There definitely was no going back. “To be honest, I have a tendency to expedite missions, so the squad’s been staying in the area. _Officially_ , Arlie listed them as part of the ‘in case of emergency’ section…”

Hoping the metal could send some sort of signal to his brain, Renzo began to assemble his k’rik, stashed inside his shirt. “How soon, then? Will they start or…?”

Emília frowned, finger sliding across her touchscreen phone as if it were ice skating. “They’re late,” she said, but it didn’t sound despondent. “We’re going to start without them, but we should be fine. I could take this small of an area on my own, but with two of us, it should be a cinch. We’ll go in opposite directions, then rotate around the perimeter. Once the backup team shows, we can reconvene with them, okay?”

“Got it,” Renzo mumbled. Nervousness managed to be secondhand. He didn’t need to worry too much about what he had to do. The goal was to make escape impossible for the members staying here, and even Emília had said that keeping them alive was preferred, just in case they were smart enough not to trust all their knowledge to computers. All of them would be taken into custody by the Illuminati. Unconsciousness would work just fine. He could do unconscious.

“You ready, Kid?” Emília looked as lighthearted as ever, gracing Renzo with a supportive pat on the shoulder. A few taps of her freehand on her phone. “I disabled their security system. Just make sure to keep count of the number of people you get, and everything will be fine.”

And like that, she ran off, leaving Renzo with no choice in direction and a delayed “Yeah…” falling off his lips.

One last deep breath. Ready to go, he spun around, only to find Viviana in his vision.

“What…” She was a small girl, part of the research team. She was lacking a filter at times, but really she was nice. “Riku, what was that all about?” He had faked a crush on her for the sake of the mission. In all honestly, part of that had probably been real attraction. “What are you two—?”

A familiar black flame, his k’rik extended. Yamantaka’s attack got her right through the chest, and Viviana collapsed in painful recollections.

“Sorry,” Renzo said, guilt draining his energy as much as his familiar, “but there’s someone else I like better.”

He didn’t look back, running in his intended direction. There were less than twenty people at the base, including the fake Adelaide and Sato. Renzo and Emília could easily contain them. He would just count to eight, then see if the squad was here or call his boss’s phone.

With their ability to stay awake, he erased their names as well. Each black flame burned up their memories to him, reducing them to a number. They counted upward easily, Renzo tearing open doors and scouring rooms with fire before confirming the presence or absence of a body, then moving on. Viviana was zero, the next One. Two, Three and Four. Starting to run out of breath at Five. Still, he could keep moving, so he didn’t stop.

At Six, he could feel his eyes cloud over. It had been a while since the Festival, since Inari, but he still remembered passing out, seeing Izumo. A smile cracked his lips, even as his face hurtled towards impact with the floor.

This time, the vision behind his eyelids was no different.

* * *

Emília had learned long ago that physical capability was every bit important to infiltration as brains. There was no sense in being a punching bag, even if having a small build had more potential in terms of body and disguise flexibility. Regardless of all of that, though, having enough physical prowess to be able to imitate different levels was necessary for success.

That also included the capability to fight. Putting Tamer aside, as she lacked the natural ability, Emília could easily qualify for all of the True Cross’s meisters, as well as several other classifications within multiple third-party organizations. Immobilizing confused people in a panic was nothing compared to what she had trained to be able to do to demons.

“Hey, Hardy, are you okay?!” Only a small set of people were left that would refer to her that way. It was that confusion that she had used to knock out the rest. Jevrem, the brunette that had given Emilia and Renzo their tour of the place, ran up to the person he would still see as Adelaide. “You gotta be careful, there’s—”

He stopped short. A look of recognition crossed his features, but it was different from the look the others had given her upon realizing she was the traitor, the reason they were all running. It was a deeper sort of recognition, almost personal, one that sent a bubble of laughter shooting from Jevrem’s lips like champagne.

“You’re her,” he said, almost to himself. “You’re really her. Emília Nussbaum…”

Politely, delicately, in complete respect for their situation, Emília smiled.

Jevrem ran, and she dutifully followed.

* * *

As she expected, the Kid was face down on the ground, k’rik just barely still trapped between his fingers. She was glad to see him working so hard, but on the other hand, pushing his limits like this was going to make things get real old, real fast. Sure, it wasn’t like every mission would require him to do this sort of neutralization, but that didn’t mean they had to limit his options.

“You really aren’t suited to your familiar at all.”

She had meant to scold him, but there wasn’t a point. And even if there had been…Emília had to admit she was smiling, anyway. It had been short, but this was actually fun. Working with Shima Renzo, and pulling off a mission so spectacularly. She really did miss the days of being a standard agent, getting shipped around the globe at random.

Kneeling down, she disassembled the k’rik and rolled Renzo onto his back in order to out the weapon back into place. She pulled him up into a sitting position, his neck rolling. She tried to drag him in for a piggyback, but his weight easily made the attempt useless. Deciding that maybe she could use a few extra muscle training sessions, Emília settled for propping the kid up on her shoulder and dragging him along beside her.

The small size of the base had its advantages, but the only one Emília cared about was the short distance it took to get to the entranceway. Several Illuminati members were scouring the area, and she just barely missed getting Renzo knocked upside the head by one rushing into the building. Isidora Rios, the captain of the current raid squad, waved Emília over. “We can get you some help with him,” the dark-haired woman said, and Emília shook her head.

It was silly just how much the sway of the beads reassured her.

“Nah, I’ll take care of him,” the Intelligence Head said, bouncing Renzo on her shoulder. The kid didn’t budge a bit in protest. “He’s not really injured, just needs some rest. I can look out for my subordinates all on my own, kay?”

Isidora snorted, and Emília’s smile made the shift to a grin. “You’re so full of it.”

“But, getting the professional stuff out of the way, the Kid and I left our belongings out in the living quarters. Most of the clothes and stuff doesn’t matter, and I still have my technology, but do try not to lump everyone’s junk together, okay? That would just be a pain in the ass later.”

Isidora was good at keeping the minimally required amount of professionalism, and not much else. “Noted,” she responded through gritted teeth. She waved her arm to the south side of the base. “The med car’s over that way. Do try to get mixed up with the hostages, will you?”

“ _Sólo podías desea Estaba tan estúpido,_ ” Emília quipped cheerfully, then resumed her transport of Renzo. She waved off the med team once she got there, placing Renzo on the bed inside the back of one of their vans and shutting the door behind her. If anyone else got hurt, they better hope there was a second van waiting for them.

Unconscious, Emília didn’t have much to say about the Kid. Some people said you could see a person change from the lack of awareness that being awake forced on you. She had no interest in looking for such things. From the past two incidents, he would wake up soon enough, so she just had to wait.

Letting his head rest so close to her legs would probably get his heart and adrenaline rushing in no time.

Still, the rest of the van was boring to look at—pretty much a nurse’s office with extra straps so things didn’t go flying. It was peaceful, though, completely soundproof from the operation going on outside. Meaning that nobody would be aware of what happened in here, too, just the two of them.

Groaning a bit, Shima Renzo’s eyes flickered open as he managed to wake up.

“ _Man, I gotta stop doing that…_ ” he mumbled in Japanese.

“Good morning,” Emília said, trying to force his awareness back to English. “Did you have a nice nap, Kid? I figured you wouldn’t appreciate the ground, much, so I brought you to a nice bed instead. Sorry, they were fresh out of nurses’ costumes. You would think the recon division would keep at least three of those damn things around.”

Even half-dazed, Renzo looked confused. “Did something happen?” he asked. Looking every bit like he was going to reunite with the ground, the kid forced himself up into a sitting position, holding himself up with an unsteady arm. “You never talk to me like this.” In a start, Emília realized he was worried about her.

 _Had_ something happened? No, it hadn’t. She gave him a half-hearted noogie, probably spurring on a headache by the way Renzo winced. “I figured I’d play around with you,” she retorted. “If I made reality seem like a dream, you’d be more willing to get up, right?”

“Heh, I guess that’s right.” Looking over to Emília, Renzo spent the next few minutes looking her over. “Your hair looks better this way,” he said, sounding distracted. Emília raised an eyebrow, causing him to splutter. “No, that was lame, just forget I said that, just—” He pulled his hands forward to bury his face his face in them, fingers brushing across Emília’s thigh in the process. She couldn’t pick apart just how much of his blush was from which event. After a deep inhale and a frustrated “Aaagh!” Renzo asked, “How’d the mission go?”

Emília stood up, stretching her arms out in front of her. Even at this point, she _still_ felt antsy? “It was a success. Give the recon team a few hours, they’ll finish their sweep, and we can head back with the rest of them.” Turning around and placing a hand on her hip, she continued, “Hey, what do you think about your proficiency with Yamantaka?”

“Huh?” Renzo extracted himself from his hand shield, looking every bit like the kid he was. “Yamantaka? What about him?”

Okay, maybe it was unfair to give him another self-analysis assignment at this point. “I just think it’s strange. Usually, when it comes to familiars, they’re bound to their tamer by an innate ability. Even if the demon is powerful, they usually don’t affect the one that summoned them this much. But you pass out, no exception. It’s troubling.”

Renzo looked down to the mattress, not saying anything. Well, Emília guessed she didn’t blame him.

“Listen, this is something critical, but I don’t want you to worry about it,” she said. Renzo’s mouth flapped silently, practically screaming that those two phrases didn’t go together at all. “I’m sure the Science Division could help you out. Why don’t we look into it once we get back?”

* * *

Jevrem Marin was feeling worn out, but that didn’t matter any. Having just barely escaped from the raid on the Britain base, he wanted a vacation, or possibly a nap. But those sorts of things just didn’t happen, and definitely not at a time like this. Hesitantly, he stepped into the room, wondering how quickly he could get this over with.

Nothing was particularly intimidating about the room—it was nicely furnished in mahogany and magenta, and the fireplace gave off a nice, even homey glow. It was the man sitting at the opposite side of the room that gave Jevrem the sensation that he could be consumed at any second.

Cassander Meisner.

“The base was compromised,” Jevrem said, knowing that Meisner had no time or patience for things like beating around the bush. “Adelaide Hardy and Riku Sato were both spies, but any traces of their identities are gone. Even the forms and data we used to approve them were erased. The Illuminati took the entirety of the base, and even our external severs don’t have any of our data except for what was backed up at other facilities two months ago. Not even a single trace of security footage.”

There wasn’t anything else to say. They had been completely and entirely defeated, though Meisner didn’t like spending time on assessments like that, either. In the position of power, it was in his authority to determine those things. Someone like Jevrem, a mere research leader, not even in the top percentile of his rank, would do well to just state facts and keep his mouth shut otherwise.

“Hm,” Meisner intoned, chin resting on the back of his hand. “It sounds as if it were a thorough job.” Jevrem felt his eyes widened and tightened the pressure on his mouth. Such compliments were incredibly rare from Meisner’s mouth. “The Illuminati has gotten bolder, but also more of an information powerhouse. We will have to act soon…but that doesn’t concern you.”

 _Please, please just let me leave,_ Jevrem pleaded, not even caring if the older man could read him like a book. He wanted to leave so badly, so escape the pressure even one of Meisner’s indirect looks could cause.

“Anything else of interest to report?” Meisner said. In most cases, this would be a trick question. Reporting was to be done thoroughly and correctly the first time. Failure to do so was no good. Jevrem instinctively went to shake his head, but stopped.

There was something, and it was important.

“She was there,” he reported, trying to keep the shakes out of his voice. “Emília. Emília Nussbaum.”

Jevrem wasn’t sure what to expect, but Director Meisner smiled nonetheless. “I suppose that explains our current situation, then,” he said. “You’re dismissed. I’m sure you’ll be reassigned in time.”

Jevrem didn’t waste any brain power on thinking over those words. He turned and escaped the door before the Director could change his mind.

* * *

Love was a funny thing, mostly because it was impossible to define properly. It was too broad, to individualistic. But it did make people do incredible things, good and bad, and that seemed to be the one thing everyone could agree on. He really didn’t know too much about it personally, because, even while he cared for people, cared for girls, his hate was really too strong for love to come through.

It probably wouldn’t always have to be like this, but he didn’t know what to do otherwise. The first girl he had gotten serious about—like, _really_ serious—he had betrayed, hadn’t even gotten close to at all. Everything else was just frivolous, and no one else had really caught his eye.

He didn’t want to give that feeling to anyone else. His love was Izumo’s, even though she would never accept it, would tear it apart and throw it back in his face. That was the end of it, so there was no point in even trying to get it back.

All things considered, love itself probably no longer existed.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Ten

* * *

Again, Renzo found himself in Lucifer’s sick room, the demon reduced to a human body hooked on IV drips and heart monitors. The main difference was that this was the King of Light’s room in the Illuminati’s base, making it much more equipped than the temporary safe room at Inari. It probably would have been more impressive if Renzo didn’t feel like he was on the verge of sweating out the entire liquid concentration of his breakfast.

The confidence he had managed to find in Britain hadn’t vanished—it was just dulled in the current situation. Just as Arlie had predicted, Renzo had returned to base feeling much better about himself, even though he couldn’t really tell why. It didn’t matter, though, because the confidence booster was really all he wanted—even if it could only do so much when coming face to face with the commander of the Illuminati.

“You’ve done well, Emília, Shima,” Lucifer praised, and Renzo decided it was better not to spend time interpreting his own jumble of feelings at the moment. “I know this won’t completely halt their counter research, but it does show us how to advance.”

Emília nodded, and Renzo wished she would establish eye contact, anything to let him know that she would cover for him. Then again, reporting to a superior was probably nothing to her, regardless of her own rank. She had probably waltzed up to Lucifer at the age of fifteen, exuding the same confidence as she did today. “If you want, we can send groups out to dispatch the similar research facilities. The total operation would take less than a month if we moved before they realized that their data has been compromised.”

“It is a difficult thing to consider.” Lucifer sat up a bit more, adjusting his pillows to give better support. A nurse on the side of the room went to help, but the demon held up a hand to stop him. “I’m sure that our taking counter-actions will do nothing to deter them from trying again, and they will be able to recover some progress merely through the power of memory. Not to mention this isn’t the True Cross Knights we’re discussing, so our actions will only do so much to hinder a counter-measure to the gates.”

“Mephisto Pheles has held contact and amicable relations with Patiti for years. We’ve known this.” Renzo jumped at the headmaster’s name. Hearing him talked about as someone in direct opposition seemed preposterous when Renzo could easily call the demon on his cellphone. “If you don’t want to waste the manpower, we could only eliminate a fraction of the research facilities—half at most. It will be a threat, and we can send internal viruses to corrupt their data. Regardless of if they realize the mercy is intentional, we’ll still have the edge.”

Lucifer fell into silence. Renzo looked between his own boss and the bedridden Commander. There wasn’t anything Renzo could contribute to the point that he was wondering why he had actually been asked for—unless that too was another of Emília’s whims.

“I approve such an operation,” Lucifer finally said. “You may set up the details as you wish, and I will approve the resources.” Emília placed a hand on her chest and gave a short dip of the head as a bow. “Moving on, though, there is something I wished to discuss—your reports read that there were sixteen agents at the facility. However, Rios reported to me that they were only able to secure fifteen of them.”

There it was. Renzo had been afraid of this. He had noticed the same exact thing when the preliminary status report came in, and one visit to the hostages transport had confirmed it—Jevrem Marin had managed to escape. He swallowed his apprehension, knowing that the best thing was just to own up to it.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, speaking for the first time the meeting. “I overextended myself too much. I passed out before the operation even got close to finishing, so I probably left an opening.” Renzo could feel both of their gazes in him. In a moment of panic, Renzo sent up a desperate prayer to make it out alive. At least he knew death would be quick if Lucifer was the one to do it.

But the King of Light only shook his head, leaving Renzo confused. “It is not only you that could take the blame,” Lucifer said. “There were several other agents as part of the raid team; any of them could have made the capture as well. While it does give Patiti a little more information than they would have had otherwise, I’m sure that Emília has made more than enough preparations to cover the information leak. I’ll be having my meeting with Rios about the results today as well, so I’m sure subsequent missions will be more efficient.”

Renzo could have sworn that Emília snickered. She covered it up by delivering a hard smack to his back instead. “See?” she said, smiling at him. “You did just fine, Kid, like I told you. We’ll figure out what to do about Jevrem as we go along with the operations and monitor their data, safe and cozy in the office.”

“Okay.” Renzo nodded, trying to relax as much as he could if that was the case. “Although, I was wondering…” He looked at Emília then Lucifer, wondering if this sort of thing was really alright to say. “About the hostages we captured. What’s going to happen to them?” Without meaning to, he remembered the base at Inari, the dazed citizens of the town, Izumo, restrained as an experimental plaything.

“They will be interrogated,” Lucifer said plainly, and Renzo wasn’t sure if he wanted the details spared or not. Part of him recognized that, if caught, he may be subjected to the same thing. In that case, he really didn’t want to know. “We have been developing several hypnotizing and truth-inducing elixirs that cause minimal damage. We will use those to gain our information. Afterwards, they will be given the option to remain with us or be set free—with any knowledge about us missing from memory of course.”

That was a lot kinder than Renzo had been expecting. But then again, the goal of the Illuminati was to unite the worlds. It didn’t do much good to completely eliminate humans, as they were a critical part of Assiah.

He was a lot more relieved than he should have been, but Renzo let it buoy his spirits anyway.

“Thanks,” he awkwardly added, wondering of it was necessary. No one made a big deal, though, so he decided that it was probably better to play on the side of caution around the Commander.

“And thank both of you for your time,” Lucifer said in turn. “If there are any further questions, we’ll forward them through the usual channels.” Emília nodded, so Renzo guessed that he didn’t need to worry about that sort of thing. “Again, an excellent job. May the world be united in light.”

“ _May the world be united in light,_ ” Emília and Renzo echoed, though he couldn’t tell which one of them sounded less convinced by the words.

One and a half bows later, they exited the room. A few long strides down the hallway, Emília practically threw her arms up in the air, then set into stretching her shoulders. “Man, I’m glad that’s over for,” she said. “Talking to the Commander just stresses me out. I feel like I say the wrong thing and Miss Glasses is going to jump down my throat—even if she has to rush over from the other side of the damn building.” Emília had openly criticized others before, but this was the first time she sounded so worn out by it. “Eh, whatever. Let’s go to lunch, Kid.”

“Okay.” Renzo had formed a sort of autopilot about lunchtime—either he followed Emília or he didn’t. His memorized layout of the building let him settle into step without thinking, so when she took an unexpected turn, he had to pause to think. “Um, the cafeteria’s this way…” he attempted, pointing down the opposite hall.

“You can’t just eat that cafeteria stuff all the time.” Emília’s beads rattled softly with an admonishing shake of the head. “Sure, they serve all kinds of things, and I know they add new stuff on a regular basis. But you eat in the same environment all the time, and you’re bound to get bored. It’s good to try new things every now and then.”

“By chance, we’re not going outside, are we?” If that was the case, Renzo would have to decline, or at least make a run for it and change out of his uniform. He wasn’t going to let his first excursion out of the base have a giant _Illuminati!_ sticker hanging over it. Besides, that was practically a date. You didn’t wear work clothes on dates!

Emília only grabbed his arm instead, dragging him along the hallway. “Sheesh, you’ve been here how long again? There’s a couple of side shops run by external sources. They’re meant to be close sources of food for members that don’t want to trek away from their work station all the way to the cafeteria.”

“Oh, yeah.” Renzo did, in fact, remember that. He just never considered going to them since they actually had prices on them, whereas the whole cafeteria was free. Then again, he hadn’t touched his notifications of his pay that were stacking up on his dresser back in the dorm; the bonus from the recent mission sitting on top. He didn’t even know how much money was in his account now, but he did at least keep the card the Illuminati had issued on him, just in case. At least he wouldn’t have to ask Emília to pay for him like an idiot. “I guess I just don’t get out much,” he joked, though it really was an understatement. “Judging by this path, we’re heading to the one upstairs?”

“You know it. It’s a bit too cold to use the roof for my tastes, but the indoor area will be just fine.”

Renzo tried to remember exactly what the café was supposed to hold, but that turned out not to be necessary. They made it there in no time, Renzo pausing for a moment to take it all in. There was a startling difference between seeing schematics and the real thing: The pale blues and yellows and whites created an illusion close to the sky stretching out along the entire wall, perched along the corner of the building. He got the sudden urge to walk up to the window and press his face against the glass, but held it in as Emília secured them a table right next to the view.

The horizon stretched out, and Renzo could see everything about the town and, if he craned his neck enough, some of the other buildings and roofs that were part of the base. It looked like one of those panoramic shots in the movies, except the glass window was the screen.

“It’s almost pretty, huh?” Emília said, looking out the window. Renzo followed the curve of her neck down to the bundle of hoods, then refocused to her eyes. “It’s kind of impressive just how easy something dazzling can cover up something so cruel.”

Renzo blinked, then shot a few discrete glances around the room. “Um, are you sure you should be saying stuff like that?” he asked. To him, it seemed like those words could get easily turned around into treason if the wrong person was listening.

“Why not?” Emilia retorted, not missing a beat. “It’s not like we don’t know it. There are plenty of people here who are only around to satisfy sick desires and the like. Sure, some people really do want to good for the world, but it doesn’t change the fact that some pretty terrible people exist in our midst.”

Renzo couldn’t deny that. He had been in Inari, seen firsthand what Gedouin had done, was trying to do with Izumo. He had watched Lucifer utterly destroy the man for pushing the limits of the Commander’s patience. But that didn’t mean there were people that the King of Light couldn’t tolerate and allowed to keep their positions.

Lucifer was, in fact, a demon, a King of Hell.

“But whatcha think of the big boss?” Emília asked, the light tone back in her voice. A waiter passed by and she ordered a few drinks, not even bothering to ask Renzo for his opinion on that matter. “I know you haven’t really had the chance to see him in action much.”

He thought about it, not sure what to say. Some part of him still viewed Lucifer as his enemy—the big enemy of the True Cross and Assiah, right beneath Satan. But another part of him recognized the King of Light’s capabilities as a leader, as Renzo’s _own_ leader.

“If I’m being totally honest,” it was a rhetorical add-on, as he didn’t have enough confidence to try and slip a really big lie past Emília, “then he scares me a little.” Emília watched on with her usual smirk, enjoying herself. “I’ve never really come so close to a major demon before, besides Amaimon, really, so he’s kind of overwhelming.”

“The King of Earth, huh?” she mused. The waiter returned with their drinks, and Emilia immediately took to it with a straw. Renzo looked to his own concoction, the colored glass making it impossible to tell what it was. Giving it his best shot, he took a drink, and wasn’t really able to tell what it was anyway, let alone if it was good or bad. “I’d say you’re pretty popular with the Baal, but I know that’s just ‘cause of how close you were to Satan’s brat.”

A weird protective urge for Rin’s sake kicked in, but Renzo didn’t want to push the conversation any farther. “Yeah, I know,” he said instead. “We went through a lot of trouble, but it’s not really his fault, I’d say. Besides, I can probably say I’m one of the few lucky humans that’s encountered two of the Hell Kings and lived to tell about it.”

“Three, actually,” Emília corrected, and Renzo wondered if this was the day his life got even more ridiculous as it already was. After all, she couldn’t be saying that she… “Ugh, get that look off your face; what kind of lame conclusion is that! I was talking about Samael, King of Time. You know, your _headmaster_?”

“But… I thought…” Renzo tripped over his own words. Mephisto Pheles, Johan Faust… He thought he had figured out the trick to those words a long time ago—the Headmaster’s demon hood was an open secret, and you had to be someone like Okumura not to figure it out. But more and more it made sense that the names were just a ruse, that something else more powerful was lurking under them. Taking care not to knock over his mystery drink, Renzo dropped his head to the table. “I’m such a moron.”

Emília tugged on his shoulder in an attempt to lift him up. “Come on, I was trying to praise you, not bum you out,” she chastised. Renzo tilted his head up to look at his boss, but didn’t lift it any further. “Three of the Baal, plus the twin sons of Satan… No one can say that you lived a quiet or boring life.”

Part of Renzo started to wish that that _could_ be the case. He could have been a nice, quiet kid, living a nice, normal life of hitting on girls and enjoying being last in line to his family. He wouldn’t have the responsibility of the Black Flame on him, and maybe he could have dated Izumo, retreated to a nice quiet life.

“Oh, I almost forgot—about that familiar of yours.”

Renzo blinked back into reality. He sat up and started to flip through the menu, determined to order his own meal this time. The conversation they had had in Britain already seemed far away, like the physical distance managed to increase the amount of time that had passed. “Yeah, you mentioned something about the Science Division. Are we doing that today?”

“No, we’ve got too much other stuff going on for me to be out of the office this afternoon. I need to be on standby in case something comes up, plus I’m going to take advantage of the Commander’s generous offer about the budget for the next operation.” Emília grinned a little, and Renzo wondered just what extras the Intelligence Division would be getting soon. “No, we’ll go ahead and check in tomorrow.”

Renzo nodded. “Got it.” Looking the menu over, he realized most of it was the same as what was in the cafeteria—you were essentially just paying for the view. Maybe he could experiment with the drinks and figure out what was even in his glass at the moment. “Wait a minute,” he said, sitting up a bit from his lazy slouch. “I distinctly remember you saying that the Science Division were a bunch of perverts. Please tell me we’ll be visiting the exception…”

Emília chuckled. “What, Cy?” she asked with too much innocence plastered onto the words. “He is a pervert. That’s why I’ll be going with you for the first couple of checkups, so don’t worry your head off, okay, Kid?”

Renzo was suddenly assaulted with the imagery of a Department full of Gedouins. He swallowed the thought and forced out a nervous laugh as the waiter passed by their table, hoping the food would turn the conversation into something that didn’t ruin his appetite.

* * *

The rest of the Cram School Kids were easily convinced that asking Mephisto about Shima was the right call. Even Takara, who didn’t seem to have the actual slightest interest (Rin had long gotten over his aversion to the Tamer, but the action still put him on the verge of a light growl), had nodded in support, despite the fact that his hand puppet had berated them the whole time. At this point, the only one missing from their conversation was Yukio, and Rin was glad to have all the backup when it came to convincing his brother.

Rin wasn’t sure when he had realized, but the fact was that he had Yukio had grown apart again. It was similar to the gap that had grown between them as exorcist and unawakened demon, except now Rin was completely aware of it. How Yukio had dealt with the knowledge since he was little was beyond Rin—to the elder brother, it felt like an indistinguishable weight that stretched his heart to its limits.

“Rin,” Shiemi’s soft voice said, “it’s okay. We’re here with you.” They had chosen to talk to Yukio at the dorm instead of the Cram School, mainly because it was much less crowded. Rin personally hoped it would make it easier for them to act as brothers, and not teacher and student. The presence of the rest of his friends bolstering his confidence, Rin opened the door.

“Yukio,” Rin started, fighting the urge to raise his voice. The last time he had gotten angry, he had unleashed a horde of hobgoblins on the whole classroom; while less than likely, he didn’t want a similar situation to happen again. “We should talk,” he settled on, trying to keep things as cool as possible. “Please?”

Yukio hardly budged from where he was hunched over his desk, lost in what seemed to be mounds of paperwork. It was all he did since coming back from Inari; it was a wonder he even had the time to teach class. “Can it wait until later, Rin?” he asked, sounding beyond tired. Rin wouldn’t be surprised to watch his brother take a nosedive straight into his own workload. “Things have been busy lately, so I really need to grade these papers before I run out of time to do it…”

Rin could already feel his annoyance level starting to break through his politeness. He was about to unleash a heated retort, but Shiemi was the one to step forward. “Yuki-chan,” she said, looking the strongest Rin had ever seen her, “we really should talk. All of us.”

Yukio turned around in his chair, fiddling with his glasses. The sight of the entire Cram School class must have thrown him off, because his eyes widened a bit before replaced with usual calm. “I assume this is important, then,” he said. “Alright, what is it?”

Bon pretty much ascended to the front of the room, a formidable presence. “We’re going to talk to Mephisto about Shima,” he declared. Bon’s fists clenched, but he didn’t show his worry. “We deserve to know more about what’s going on. We’d like your support.”

“We’re not backing down,” Izumo chimed in. “So whether you come or not, the old clown’s getting an earful.”

Shiemi’s head pivoted in several directions, before she seemed to decide that she should speak, too. “Please, Yuki-chan! I’d feel a lot better if we had you around, too…” Rin wasn’t sure if the pang in his chest was jealousy or not, but he knew this wasn’t the time to bring that up.

“We’re all just worried,” Konekomaru added. “If we had your support, Okumura-sensei, then maybe we’d be taken more seriously.”

Before Yukio could get a word in edgewise, Rin added, “He’s our friend, Yukio. Please?”

There was a silence—if Rin didn’t know any better, we would have expected Takara to join in on the request, but that was unlikely. Instead, everyone just stared at Yukio, whose brow was furrowed, the way he did when he was thinking too hard. Finally, Rin’s brother dropped his shoulders, adjusting his posture with a smile.

“Well, with all of you asking like this, I can’t really say no. I’ll come with you, then,” Yukio agreed, setting off a wave of soft cheers and reassured smiled. Rin grinned, feeling better.

For the first time since they had come back from Inari, the Cram School’s feeling of sadness had lifted just a little.

* * *

The desire for knowledge was fundamental, primal even. If you were a practitioner to such beliefs, you could easily trace the desire back to Adam and Eve. Of course, following that train of logic, desire for knowledge was also a sin. The Tower of Babel could also be cited for this argument.

It was almost unfair, though. Some people couldn’t help the amount of knowledge they possessed—were capable of possessing. Others were susceptible to lacking knowledge but still wanting to achieve it. People couldn’t get over a curiosity to know more, to understand.

Because the alternative was to be ignorant, to be afraid. To not know what to expect or how to handle it. That was the sort of fate that awaited those without knowledge or flexibility.

All actions could be said to be taken for the sake of eliminating fear.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Eleven

* * *

The main Science Division was strikingly different from the one at Inari. The main hub was bustling with people, several important looking Illuminati members sporting lab coats leading their like-dressed kind in experiments that Renzo knew he wouldn’t be able to keep straight. The activity level was almost overwhelming, and Renzo was convinced that Inari had truly been a dead husk in comparison to what the Illuminati was capable of.

Of course, he also knew that this was only a fraction of the Science Division’s overall space—they took up the most square-kilometerage in the entire base, more than the Intelligence Division could ever dream of commandeering. Then again, Emília used the Science Division as her own personal pharmacy, so Renzo wouldn’t doubt if she laid some form of mental claim to the place anyway.

“Come on, you’ll have plenty of time to get bored of this place later,” Emília said, striding past Renzo. Not wanting to get left behind in the mess of people, he followed close behind, nearly brushing against the end of her ponytail. Out of the corners of Renzo’s eyes he could see several things happening—but they all passed by in blurs. After following after Emília so many times, he had thought he would get bored, but there was nothing that had yet to disinterest him in the view.

Emília’s path went cut straight through the middle of the room and up stairs, circling around until Renzo wasn’t sure which experiment room they had wandered into, but it was _huge_. On the opposite side of the room stood a black mass of metal and magic that Renzo had ever only seen in information reports he was analyzing.

_An Artificial Gehenna Gate._

Emília continued her trek, but Renzo was stuck in the doorway, not sure of how to respond. He tried to convince himself it was just the hype, but he could have sworn that the atmosphere in the room was _different_.

_This is something that should not exist…_

“Pretty impressive, huh?” A scientist with wavy pigtails bordering the line between girl and woman appeared at Renzo’s side, smiling. “It’s the culmination of all our hard work—the newest version of the Artificial Gehenna Gates. We’ve had Tamers analyzing the summoning patterns that the Commander gave us like crazy, and we’ve been able to increase its capabilities tenfold! Of course, it’s still in the testing stage mind you, and nowhere near the _real_ Gehenna Gate, but you can’t deny that it’s progress.”

Renzo wanted to object the idea of even working on such a thing, but he knew what it was for. If the worlds were to get any closer, they would have to be connected first. And if Satan wasn’t the one to put together the Gate, this was the closest the Illuminati could get.

“I’m Harper Lucassen, by the way,” the girl continued, extending a hand. “I’m part of the main team working on the applications phase for this big boy. Who are you?”

Renzo had a blink of hesitation that Emília would have caught onto in an instant. Harper only shook Renzo’s hand as he extended it to meet hers. “Shima Renzo, part of the Intelligence Division,” he introduced. Come to think of it, he wasn’t quite sure was his own rank was, only what it _should_ have been, but he was sure Emília’s favor easily outranked that. “I’d love to spend all day talking about how you’ve got the triad of brains, beauty, and eternal youth on your side, but I’m sure you’ve heard all about that before. I’d hate to waste your valuable time when you could be working on something like that.”

Despite Renzo’s flippant attitude, Harper’s cheeks immediately dusted pink, and she muttered, “Oh, hush, you.” Renzo grinned a little—even with her words, the scientist looked rather pleased by the compliment. It was nice to have such a positive reaction—the perfect medium between Moriyama’s innocent cluelessness and Emília’s brazen acceptance. “So are you here to give us an update on the collection info?”

Renzo shook his head. “No, we’re still gathering data,” he reported, as some of the first new infiltrative teams had left this morning. “Actually, I’m here with—”

“Cy!” Emília’s voice echoed in the room, easily filling up the space. What small discussion that had been going on between the Science Division members petered out, though some of them remained at work on consoles lining the wall. “I brought you a present!” Emília declared, and Renzo could tell by the jerk of her thumb that the present was him.

It was hard to see any detail from across the room, but a man with chestnut hair stepped forward, sweeping body language showing annoyance. “If it’s not related to the Gates, I’m not interested,” he declared, voice carrying equal measure. “We’re busy! I don’t know what you expected, since _you’re_ the one who brought back all that info!”

“Blah, blah, just look at this!” As if it were nothing to drag a man that towered over her in the height department across the room, Emília attached her hand to the man’s lapels and escorted him to Renzo. “Behold, a natural Tamer of the Shima line, one with direct access to Yamantaka. That’s Black Flames, you know. You can’t tell me such a high affinity isn’t worth your time.”

“Ohmigosh,” Harper breathed, hands snapping over her mouth. Seconds after, they were gripping onto Renzo’s sleeve, the small girl almost hanging off of him. “You didn’t tell me that you were _that_ Intelligence member. _Cy_ , we _gotta_!”

“Yamantaka, huh?” Cy muttered, looking over Renzo. It had been a while since he had been so obviously appraised, and Renzo stiffened a bit. “I’ll admit, that’s a pretty valuable catch. But you don’t give things away for free, Lia. What’s the trick?”

It took more than a few seconds for the name _Lia_ to catch up with Renzo’s brain, and he felt a pang of jealousy at the familiarity. Emília had always encouraged the use of _–chan_ , so Renzo had concluded that he was special. But here was another guy on familiar terms with her. He knew it was stupid not to think that Emília _didn’t_ have other friends, but the attachment Renzo felt was a bit more than what should be normal for only knowing the woman hardly over a month.

_It’s just attachment because she was the one to reach out to me, that’s all there is._

Emília dropped a casual hand onto Renzo’s shoulder, breaking him out of his possibly impending internal monologue. “I’ll admit, he’s not perfect,” she said, the words doing nothing for her subordinate’s dwindling confidence. “But, he does have potential—a whole lot. The problem is that there’s something wonky about his summoning. Any time he does it, the energy drain is far more severe than it should be. The Kid here passes out, regardless of the duration.”

Cy’s gaze only intensified. Renzo wondered if this is what it was like to get cornered by a female friend’s boyfriend. “I see…” the man only mumbled, probably considering the options.

“I say we go for it,” Harper piped in. “It’s actually similar to our problem with the Gates—we don’t know how to override the capacity without breaking the whole system down. The human body just cuts itself off to preserve its limits—falling unconscious. Machinery, on the other hand, especially in experimental situations, tends to have more…explosive results.”

Renzo looked over the Artificial Gate again, imagining the damage stats that could come from the thing exploding, especially with its size. If that were to happen, he wouldn’t even be comfortable being in the base, let alone the Science Department.

“You believe so?” Harper nodded. Cy looked as if he was considering the situation further. Renzo glanced to Emília, who didn’t look worried in the slightest. “Very well,” the man finally agreed, causing Harper to fist pump. Cy fully turned to Renzo, almost as if seeing him properly for the first time. “I am Cyneric Lucassen, Head of the Artificial Gehenna Gate Team. It’s nice to meet you.”

“We’re called AGG for short!” Harper tossed her arms around Cyneric, rubbing her cheek against his arm in joy.

Renzo’s immediate thought was that that had to be an alias—something he could have dug into if he really wanted to. Beyond that, though, he felt ridiculous for not realizing the connection—Harper and Cyneric’s hair were the same shade, his waves coming out in the form of a tousled mess from his scalp. They had to be siblings at the very least.

“Shima Renzo,” he responded to Emília’s tightened grip on his shoulder. “Um, please take care of me, alright?”

“Ahh, this is gonna be the best!” Harper cheered, switching the target of her embrace off her supposed brother and onto Renzo. Hopefully, he glanced to Emília, only to find her amused. “We should run some preliminary observations, okay? Nothing too crazy, just checking you and your correlation with your familiar…” Harper removed one hand for the sake of cupping her mouth, amplifying her voice across the room: “Oi! One of you guys go grab a futon! We’re gonna need it!”

Renzo looked back to Emília seeking guidance. Harper didn’t release his arm, bouncing with excitement. Emília likewise kept her hand on his shoulder, leaning close to his ear. “You can stay here for the afternoon. Once your normal work hours are over, you can scamper out of here. I’ll keep in contact with Cy and Har, and they’ll let me know how things are going. Oh, but don’t worry about them doing anything too weird.”

Finally her voice dropped to a whisper. “ _I’ll give you a standard examination later, okay?_ ”

Stunned, Renzo could only get dragged across the room by Harper as Emília retreated with a small wave.

* * *

The text message he got from Emília told him to go to the Medical Department first thing in the morning, before even reporting to the Intelligence Division. The Lucassens had mentioned a standard physical yesterday, so Renzo figured that Emília had set him up an appointment. He really questioned the need since he _knew_ Emília had all his True Cross Academy data, physical included, but a few months seemed to be enough of an excuse.

An older secretary directed him to which room to use, and he waited, staring at the walls. It was pretty much a standard infirmary and, if Renzo didn’t know better, could be easily mistaken for one at True Cross Academy or the Cram School. On the ceiling, vague patterns of black speckles were present, giving him something to look at other than pure white.

He couldn’t help but think of Emília’s words from the previous afternoon. Would she really give him the examination? She had mentioned that she was qualified as a Doctor, but that was probably just in the Exorcist sense, she couldn’t seriously…

Regardless, the image of Emília in a nurse’s costume (probably borrowed from some picture book he had flipped through before) came to mind. She had joked about it before, too. He was probably just getting his hopes up; the mental imagery was really enough for him. He would have to control his thoughts before he got to work and Emília went about the process of reading his mind.

There wasn’t time for that as Emília strode into the room. Her usual ponytail was absent, pulled up into a larger bun higher on her head, twin hairsticks rattling beads against each other. Other than that, she was dressed as usual, her first step of action to pinch the Renzo’s cheek between her forefingers.

“You’re not dreaming,” she said, looking more amused by usual. “I just figured I’d go ahead and get that out of the way. But I’m sure you’d like to drag this out, and I’m okay with delaying heading back to the office. Just don’t be too stubborn alright?”

Renzo could hardly process what she was saying. Again, Emília tugged on his cheek, letting him snap back into reality. “Alright,” he said, not even attempting to hide how dazed he was. There wouldn’t be any point, considering how jumbled his brain felt—under the assault of a hurricane and roller coaster’s love child.

“Good.” Patting his cheek lightly as if in apology, Emília moved across the room afterwards. “Height and weight first, then.” Passing a countertop, she snatched up a clipboard, probably containing whatever data forms she needed. “You can talk about whatever you want, by the way. I’m kind of curious to how your first day with Cy and Har went.”

Renzo dutifully slipped out of his shoes and put aside his jacket before standing on the scale. Emília adjusted the metal behind him to read his height, deftly scribbling out notes as needed. “They’re interesting…” he said, only making Emília’s smirk grow wider. “Sorry if I’m prying, but you three all know each other?”

Emília nodded, lightly pushing Renzo off the scale. “That’s right. Clothes off.” Renzo began to strip, trying not to feel subconscious. Unconcerned, Emília continued. “When I first came here, I brought a lot of my personal meds with me—just in case I needed to engineer anything. After the first year or so, though, my supply ran out, so that’s when I first used the Science Division—I broke in, in fact.”

Renzo could easily imagine that. It seemed her headstrong attitude had existed for quite some time. Producing a measuring tape, Emília sat about wrapping it around his chest, fingers brushing against his skin. “That was all and well until Cy found me. Back then, he was a real stuck-up workaholic, and threw a huge fit. Threatened to take me to the higher-ups and get sacked.”

Cyneric was definitely eccentric, but Renzo couldn’t think of him as stuck-up. Unlike Emília, other people seemed to properly develop with the passage of time. “But you weren’t the Intelligence Head at the time,” he realized. “It wouldn’t be easy to just brush that off.”

“No, but I had risen pretty high at that point.” The tape measure jumped from place to place, this time settling around his legs. “I could have easily gone to the Boss and asked him to bail me out—I made sure I was valuable enough, so I’m sure he would have taken my side. But instead I told Cy to fuck off, that as an Illuminati member I had every right to use the facilities as I saw fit.”

Standing up, Emília smiled, almost looking nostalgic. She pointed to the bed, and Renzo sat down again. “And he told me that I shouldn’t be poking my nose into other departments’ resources without asking. In reality, he was mad that I was using up rare ingredients that he had ordered himself. I was pretty much going through his personal stock before he could even touch it.”

Whether or not she was testing him, Emília paused. Her hand wrapped around his arm, and it was completely different sensation than just her fingertips. Renzo swallowed and said, “Hardy’s medical record said she had an unknown illness prior to enlistment. She was only able to join because she had recovered.”

Curiosity had gotten the better of him, leaving Renzo to look up information on his new observation duo. At first, he had started with all of AGG, but eventually had settled for information on the Lucassens. The remaining unread files were still sitting on his tablet if he ever decided to look into it.

Emília tapped at Renzo’s knee with a small hammer, checking his reflexes. The expected reaction sent his foot into the air, shortly followed by the second. “That’s a bit of a lie—Cy fibbed and Har went through with it,” Emília informed. “In actuality, Hardy was under a possession at the time that affected her health. But Cy didn’t—still doesn’t—have a Temptaint. He joined the Illuminati because he thought their resources had the cure. I struck a bargain to help him, but just ended up exorcising the demon instead. Har latched onto me in thanks, so we became friends. That’s pretty much the gist of it.”

“He doesn’t have a Temptaint?” Renzo echoed. “Why? Even while working here, and on the Gates—”

Scribbling out her signature, Emília dropped the clipboard to her waist. “Well, that’s really his business, so I won’t talk about it,” she said, the same finality in her voice as when she told Renzo they were mission partners. “But Hardy can see demons and the like just fine, so they work as a team. That’s about all there is to it.” She shrugged, then turned to the door. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll drop this off at the Science Division and meet you at the office.”

* * *

It had taken a few days for all the Cram School kids to get together in one giant block of free time, but it had been done. Yukio had insisted from the get-go that they not abandon their normal, everyday lives for this, and they had reluctantly agreed. It was something Yukio had learned on his own a while ago—that just because major things happened in the exorcism world, the ordinary world still moved on, even if it seemed to be at a distorted pace and lens.

Yukio had arranged things this morning, being forced to leave a voicemail, to which Sir Pheles had left another voicemail, inviting Yukio and his students to come to the Headmaster’s office once Cram School had let out for the day.

So, that evening, Yukio steeled himself and knocked on the door, just knowing that this would probably turn more explosive than it needed to be by the time this whole thing was through.

“Welcome, everyone,” Sir Pheles said, spreading out his arms as if he were about to hug his desk. “I’ve heard that you all have some concerns involving Shima-kun. I can assure you that he’s doing just fine.”

Yukio had expected Rin to be the one to snap first, or even Suguro. Instead, Kamiki strode forward, slamming her hand on Pheles’s desk, nearly toppling several of his miniature figurines. “Well that’s not vague or anything!” she shouted. “We’re not here to play mind games, got it. We deserve to know what’s going on, and in detail, not just whatever roundabout answer you’ve concocted to distract us!”

From somewhere behind Yukio, Konekomaru said, “Kamiki-san, please calm down…”

Mephisto didn’t look perturbed—he only grinned, as if enjoying himself. Yukio knew this was probably the case, but he didn’t like it. “Now, now, Kamiki-san, I’m sure we don’t need to go this far,” he said, holding up gloved hands in surrender. “I have every intention of sharing with you. Shima-kun is in perfectly good health, and has also infiltrated quite far—he’s working directly with their Intelligence Head. Already he’s managed to provide access to a vast amount of high quality information. He’s far surpassed the quota we had considered he would reach.”

“So then if he’s passed his quota he could come home, then?” Konekomaru asked. Even Suguro looked surprised by the assumption, like they hadn’t discussed the possibility before. “I mean, in theory at least?”

“While that could be true,” Mephisto continued, folding his hands in his lap, “it is in the end Shima-kun’s decision. He’s well aware of the advantages and risks of his position. But it also stands to note that, were he to pull a disappearing act on the Illuminati, his notoriety would rise above what it already was after his open betrayal at the Festival. The more of a name he makes for himself in explosive acts like those…”

“…the more his value as a spy goes down,” Suguro finished. It seemed as if he was growing angrier by each word from the Headmaster’s mouth. “Well that’s fine by me! He shouldn’t go off running around like that anyways. Getting himself caught up in something so dangerous….he’s gonna get it when he gets back…”

“But,” Shiemi spoke up, timid. Her tone was closer to the hesitant girl Yukio had met for the first time instead of the clear one she had been using recently. “This is something that Shima-san chose on his own, right? We can’t just take that away from him. And if this is a good opportunity…” Her eyes cast to the ground, Shiemi’s hands balled into tight fists.

“And you honestly believe that?!” Kamiki spun around, her twin tails hitting against a desk lamp and almost colliding with the Headmaster’s face. “Why would that lazy, girl-crazy Pink Head do something so dangerous? It’s not like him at all!”

Looking at the others from Kyoto, Yukio could tell that they agreed. But it was hard to distinguish how much of that was anguish and how much was a desire to have their friend back, to be able to see with their own eyes instead of just trusting what they heard about his wellbeing.

“But what if it is?” Rin said. In direct opposition to Yukio’s belief, he looked calm, even sounded it. “We can’t say it’s not what he wanted, right?” Collectively, they stared, though Yukio couldn’t tell what they were thinking, either. “Shiemi’s right. If it’s something Shima chose, then we just can’t take that away from him.”

Kamiki let out a growl and stomped back across the room. “You weren’t there,” she said. “You didn’t see him. You didn’t see how he acted, so don’t tell me that he would ever choose something like that!”

Yukio took a step forward. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but someone needed to speak up before things got any worse. And he was the teacher after all—if he wasn’t able to bring order, then what was the point—

“Everyone,” Mephisto said, standing up but not stepping away from his desk. Kamiki and Rin’s quibbling died down, and everyone focused their attention on the Headmaster. Yukio just felt sick. “I understand that this is a trying time. That being said, fighting amongst yourselves won’t help you or Shima-kun. If you’re all concerned about his wellbeing, I’ll be sure to let him know when I contact him and pass his message onto you. If you wish for me to communicate anything to him, I’ll be sure to do so as well.”

The almost sour silence sweetened slightly into a more contemplative air. Just like that, the situation seemed to have stabled, even with several volatile elements active. Finally, Suguro spoke up, saying, “When’s your next contact point? The exact date.”

“At the moment, Shima-kun and I have agreed to speak at the end of the calendar month,” Mephisto answered, dropping the answer much easily than Yukio had suspected. “That gives us approximately two and a half weeks until he and I speak again. Breaking this agreement for more frequent contact could easily compromise his actions, so I request that you be patient.”

Yukio worried that everyone’s patience had far run out. Again countering his expectations, Suguro nodded. “Fine.”

Even Kamiki, who looked on the verge of delivering a scathing comment, stayed silent.

When there were no further signs of dissent, Mephisto nodded. “Then why don’t you all head home for now?” he suggested. “I’ll be sure to stop by the Cram School soon to collect your messages. You should all be working hard on studying for the Exorcist Exam as well. And I wish you all the best of luck.” Slowing beginning to mumble amongst themselves, the students began to file out of the room, and Yukio went to fall into step behind them. “Okumura-sensei.”

Yukio turned around. The door shut—whether or not one of the Cram School students closed it, Yukio had no idea. “Is there something you need, Sir Pheles?” he asked.

“I was just wondering how you were handling everything,” Mephisto said. The man always had an air of knowing everything about him, but it just seemed worse now. “Are your eyes holding up? Do you need new glasses or anything? Shiro did leave quite the substantial funds behind for emergencies lying around.”

Yukio took a few steps backward, feeling around for the doorknob. “I’ve been doing just fine.” Getting a grip on what he was looking for, he turned the knob. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I still have some lessons to prepare…”

Not waiting for a response, Yukio fled the room, wandering where the closest mirror was and if he would have the courage to look when he found one.

* * *

Paralyzation.

That’s the sort of feeling it was. Something numbing that managed to make you more aware of every part of you in the process. It shouldn’t have been possible, but that wasn’t exactly relevant. It was that sort of logical yet illogical event.

The experience of fear.

And it could go deeper, could reach down into your core and rip everything out: your soul, not just other supposedly vital things like your heart or spine. The paralysis wouldn’t just numb you; it would make you incapable of action in any format. There would be nothing you could do about it, just accept it. Accept it, and fall deeper, because struggling was no good.

Because there was no way to properly fight terror.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Twelve

* * *

The afternoon passed without much hassle for once, mostly because Harper had been leading the tests, and not Cyneric. Renzo had been concerned about the man’s lack of a Temptaint before, but not so much anymore. Once Cyneric got himself into an experiment, he would easily run himself or the test subject into the ground while trying to make progress. Harper, while not any less adamant, at least recognized Renzo’s human capabilities.

Judging by how things were going, the Lucassens hadn’t made any substantial breakthroughs. Harper always smiled and assured Renzo that being able to gather data _was_ progress, but he was sure there were plenty of times that others—namely Cyneric—would disagree with that sentiment, especially when you were engaged in a battle with the world’s foremost exorcist organization.

“Hey there, Kid.”

Renzo looked up to see Emília walking down the hallway. He had just worked with her in the morning, but it seemed like so much longer with how many times he had knocked himself out in one afternoon. He was still a bit hazy from the last attempt, and rubbed his eyes. “Hey.”

A few delayed moments passed, and it finally hit Renzo that she wasn’t dressed in her uniform anymore. It was different from when she had been Adelaide in Britain; he could see the curves of her legs better, but she still had a poofy jacket on. _I guess I’m never gonna be able to check her out properly, huh?_

“Any progress yet?” Emilia asked, looking over to the Science Division entrance. A few people were trickling out, signaling the end of their work day. Still, the place was pretty full, and Renzo got the impression that the place always had at least one person in it, possibly two more if you counted the ones passed out at their desks. Renzo just hadn’t worked up the energy to head to his room yet.

Renzo shrugged, knocking his shoulders against the wall. “Harper says I’m spending less time unconscious, but I’m not so sure about that,” he reported. He felt like he spent more time on a futon than doing anything useful. Was he really getting paid for this? “But I’ve only been summoning Yamantaka for a few minutes at a time, so I don’t know if that really counts.” To be honest, Renzo was pretty sure that the demon was getting pretty annoyed with him, even though the situation had been explained.

Emília nodded. “Sounds about right. I’m sure Harper’s analyzing what your body does while you’re unconscious or something like that.” She shrugged as well, making the movement look much more graceful. “Well, it’s Friday night and you’ve had to put up with the Lucassens for several days in a row. So I’m here to drag you out for dinner as a treat.”

“Dinner?” Renzo repeated, trying to make sure that he had heard things right. Because if he had, then the implication was… “Like a date? Or are you just messing with me again and this is gonna be filled with nothing but work talk like at the café?” Renzo wasn’t sure which option was preferable. Well, there was the one he _wanted_ , but he wasn’t so sure that it would be the right answer in the long run.

Emília snickered. “Unless you think Arlie has any sort of romantic inclination towards you or me, then it’s not a date,” she answered. Renzo’s heart didn’t plummet as far as he would have thought—it must have been a sense of logic saving him the trouble. “But there’s no way I would spend my precious free time on a Friday night talking about work. Nope, it’s a night to relax, and I figured you would appreciate a change of pace.”

“Yeah,” Renzo said, not even having to remind himself to smile. He was ready to ask where they were going, but stopped himself. “Just let me go ahead and get changed first.”

* * *

Sitting at the bar wasn’t quite as awkward as Renzo had thought it would be. The wayward thought reminded him that he was sixteen by now, and, according to the laws of Europe, could drink. He wasn’t sure if he had the courage to do such a thing, let alone in front of his boss. The second reservation seemed to do nothing to hinder Nikita from ordering an “all you can drink!” special from the get go.

“You don’t understand,” xe said, graciously accepting xir first drink off the bartender. Now _her_ , she was a beauty that Renzo hadn’t expected to find tucked away in a place like this, but he wasn’t going to complain. “It looks great that we’re getting all this attention for our good work, but I’m getting tired of being the go-to for processing reports. What’s the point of being third-in-command if all I do is play secretary?” Concluding xir sentence, Nikita easily downed at least half of the first drink of the evening.

“Stenographer,” Emília corrected, patting xem on the back. “If you’re that worried, we can train up some of the noobs to spend their time recording the thoughts of us lazy higher-ups.” The drink in front of her was non-alcoholic, so Renzo wasn’t worried about her getting too worked up. But if she did get drunk, maybe pass out, then as the gentleman he could piggy-back her back to the room, and if he saw something he shouldn’t have on the way…

That was it. Renzo had spent too much time without any magazines. He even had a solo room, so it wouldn’t be as impossible to get some alone time as he had sharing a room with Konekomaru and Bon, or even his brothers. The first thing he was doing tomorrow morning was enjoying his day off privileges to get some magazines, maybe even waste a few hours afterwards.

Cataloguing the thought for later, Renzo cleared his throat. “I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about work tonight?” he suggested, already sounding lame. Dammit, was the gap between sixteen and nineteen really that different? No wonder she treated him like a kid all the time—he really was one.

Emília smiled as suspected. “There’s a difference between discussing and complaining,” she informed, holding a slender index finger in the air. “So if you’ve got anything you wanna get off your chest, go for it. Even if it’s complaints about me, I don’t mind!”

Renzo doubted the sincerity of that statement, and looked to Nikita tucked away in the corner. “It’s true,” xe said, looking amused for the first time. Renzo wondered if that was the alcohol or just the effects of being away from the workspace. “One time I was hardly even wasted and I called her a bitch.”

Emília smiled as if the memory was something to look back on with fondness. “And I told xem they better figure out which mood they were in so I could hurl the appropriately themed insults,” she added on. “It was a pretty rowdy night. Good thing the place was empty then or we would have been tossed out for sure.”

“And I come back to work Monday to see that I’ve somehow been promoted.” Xe nudged Emília’s arm, nearly spilling over both their drinks straight onto the counter. “You couldn’t even write up a good reason why you were doing it. Nobody said a word, though.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s my department and what I do in it is my damn business.” Having balanced herself on the barstool again, Emília picked up her glass, taking a short sip. “Besides, you stood up to me, plus you work hard. I needed someone with both balls and brains to get things done in my absence.”

Nikita snorted so hard that Renzo was worried the beer would come straight out xir nose. “You mean so everyone will think you’re hard at work when you decide to run away.”

“You know me too well.”

Renzo went to sip at his drink, only to find ice rattling around in an otherwise empty glass. He had been nursing it absentmindedly, but he didn’t expect it to be empty already. As if summoned by the sound, the bartender appeared, her torso suddenly appearing in Renzo’s vision. He quickly tried to adjust his attention to her face—strawberry blonde, short hair, brown eyes—only to have Emília and Nikita erupt into unheeded giggles beside him.

The bartender didn’t pay them any mind, only focusing on the customer in need, which Renzo realized was him. “I asked if you wanted anything for a refill,” she said, smiling. “Maybe something stronger to help you keep up with these idiots.”

“Come _on_ , Devi,” Emília whined at the same time Nikita pouted, “Rude…”

Renzo considered it; was it really okay to have his first intentional alcohol experience around his boss? Then again, his first drink had come from Shura, who was supposed to be acting as his teacher, and Nikita would probably be wasted by the end of the night, so what did it really matter? “Sure,” he said, just barely managing to come with the addition of, “whatever you recommend.”

“Coming right up!” Devi— _was it?_ —strode off. Just before she turned, Renzo could see the curve in her blouse, and it slid perfectly into her waist, then her hips. She probably wouldn’t be out of place in a magazine with curves like that—and Renzo knew he was never spending a month and a half like this _ever_ again. He wasn’t even drunk and he couldn’t go for five seconds without thinking about sex.

“Before you ask, she’s single,” Emília whispered by his ear. Renzo nearly smacked her in the jaw with his elbow as he jolted, but she moved away easily. “Gets asked out by lots of drunks all the time, but nobody serious. She’d probably love it if you said something while you were sober.”

“Whoa, you get attached that easily, huh?” Nikita added. Without Renzo noticing, xe had been blessed with a second mug, which looked full to the brim. “A few curves, huh? Maybe you should check out—”

“What’sshedoingworkinginaplacelikethis?” Renzo rushed out, not mentally prepared for a conversation like that. He hardly had a chance understanding the whole gender scenario, let alone figuring out any of equally dangerous territory of sexual orientation. Nikita didn’t even have the decency to look put out. “I mean, sure, it’s nice and all, but bar work usually isn’t the first thing that people turn to.”

Emília nodded, and for some reason, Renzo found himself staring at the beads, then her neck. “True enough, but it’s nothing too crazy,” she said. “I’d say questions like that are best directed at the girl you’re interested in, not your information fortissimo of a boss.”

Renzo was about to say _You_ are _the girl I’m interested in,_ but he stopped himself. Rattling off pick-up lines in front of Nikita probably wasn’t the smartest thing he could spend his time on. It was bad enough they were going to be drinking in the same semi-memorable proximity, no need to add any more ammunition. Not to say the bigender was that type, but Renzo realized he was missing a lot of information on the people around him and didn’t want to take chances.

“Huh, he likes someone?” Devi commented, the mug of alcohol silently descending to the countertop. Renzo paled at the size of it, but he did suppose he hadn’t really given any specifics, let alone mention he was a first-time drinker. “Funny, Emí, I thought he was your boyfriend.”

It was a good thing that Renzo hadn’t tried out his drink yet, otherwise it would have been spit out directly onto Devi’s shirt. Getting the thing wet would have only made it tighter, and then…

Emília dropped her arm around Renzo’s shoulder, her cheek resting comfortably next to his. “Nah, just my subordinate,” she said. If Renzo had been in Devi’s position, he would have been getting very mixed messages at this point. Hell, he was in his own position and he was getting mixed messages. “I don’t dabble in romance anyway, so it would take a lot of work to get myself a boyfriend, huh?” Hey, why did she have to be so _close_ —?

“Well then.” Devi smiled, and Renzo wasn’t sure how was supposed to take _that_ , either. “Just speak your mind. Most girls like having guys be honest about their feelings.” She looked away, and Renzo followed her gaze to another set of patrons, waving for attention. “Good luck with your crush, kay?”

 _Being honest about my feelings, huh?_ Yeah, he had tried that with Izumo back in Inari, and look where that had gotten him. Besides, crush was too strong a word for a few feelings tossed around after seeing a girl in a tight shirt. _Maybe I should just finish my drink and leave…_

Nikita leaned forward to peak around Emília, just barely grazing the edges of Renzo’s peripheral vision. “My advice: chug it,” xe said.

Renzo gave Emília a glance. It was pathetic that he was asking for her permission, but it was his default by now. Besides, she was paying for the thing. She smiled, peeling their cheeks apart. “It’s a celebration, Kid,” she said. “If you want it, go for it.”

Deciding it was better than trying to walk away in his current state, Renzo brought the mug to his lips.

* * *

“You sure this is okay?” Arlie asked, almost leaning over into xir next drink. Emília hadn’t bothered counting since Arlie would keep xemself conscious as long as possible until either Emília or the barkeep called it quits. Even though it was pushing three in the morning, Emília still felt wired, so it was probably going to have to be Devi to make the call for both of them. “He’s probably going to hate you for letting him drink so much.” It was incredible how xe could keep xir words from slurring at this point.

Emília looked over to Renzo, who was decidedly passed out on the countertop. It had been a few hours since his initial collapse, and he had hardly budged since. Judging by how he had already asked for a refill on his pills, it was probably the first sleep he had gotten without them.

“He’ll be fine,” Emília decided, not really having any concerns about the matter. “He adores me, so I’m sure he’ll get over it in time. Besides, he’ll have a whole weekend to stew about it if it really bothers him that much.” She laughed, feeling a bit listless. Maybe she would have to make the call soon. It wouldn’t do them any good if Emília fell over while getting the other two back home safe.

Arlie tapped the counter with xir fingers, missing half the beats. “Hmm _mmm_?” xe said, and Emília was glad she had long adjusted to the concentrated stench of alcohol. “So you’ve known, huh? You just playin’ with him then? Messing with his head a bit? Don’t tell me you really do wanna play around in romance.”

Emília rolled her eyes, shoving Arlie off her shoulder, nearly sticking a finger in xir eye. “Fuck off,” she muttered, not really feeling up to it. “I don’t have time to play around in a relationship, and you know it. Besides, a Kid like him would be able to handle me as well as he could handle his alcohol.”

“And another thing!” Arlie exclaimed, trying to slam xir glass onto the counter but only swiping it through the air with enough force to flutter Emília’s bangs. “You still haven’t told me what this is all about. Don’t act like I’m gonna buy this whole potential story! You’ve never played favorites before, not even with me. What’s the deal, Boss? I ain’t lettin’ this go until you tell me…”

“You really care that much?” Emília asked. Arlie nodded, xir neck almost collapsing halfway through. Okay, maybe it was time to call it off; at this rate Emília would have to haul both of them back home or call a taxi. “Listen, it’s an executive secret. I can’t really tell anyone, so you’ll just have to trust me.” And Emília prayed that that lame excuse worked out.

Arlie stared, having more concentrated deadpan in xem that Emília thought possible. “Does Micah know?” xe asked.

“No,” Emília said, because that was the truth. She avoided Arlie’s gaze and dug into her pocket, extracting her Illuminati card. “Devi, go ahead and charge me. I think we’re all done here.” The bartender snagged the card out of Emília’s fingers, and the woman stood up, trying to get a hold under the Kid’s armpits. It was easier than picking him off the ground in Britain she supposed.

“We done?” Arlie asked. Xe stood up, looking pretty balanced. At least Emília wouldn’t have to worry about xem on the way home. Devi returned with her card and a rather lengthy receipt, which Emília turned down with a shake of her head. Even without alcohol in her system, the familiar shake of her beads sounded ridiculously loud.

“Yeah. We’re done.”

“You guys come again!” Devi called after them as the Intelligence Division headed out the door.

* * *

_He felt pretty warm, and it was nice. Nothing burning, trying to push itself out. Just nice, pleasant warmth, like the time he, Bon, and Konekomaru had had a sleepover and curled up under one giant comforter. It didn’t quite feel like home, but at least he was relaxed._

_“Come on, now’s no time to sleep.”_

_Again, with the voices he couldn’t identify. It didn’t matter, though. Who was talking to him? Who cared? The words had kept shifting and blending partway through. Figuring anything out just felt like a big waste of time._

But I want to sleep, _he said._ I’m tired, so please just let me rest.

_“Are you sure?” A hand caressed his cheek, and Renzo opened his eyes. He was back in his dorm room at True Cross Academy, sitting on his bed. The covers were a mess and the floor was covered in a mix of school work, clothes, and magazines. Izumo was in front of him. He could see down her uniform blouse. “Don’t tell me you were just leading me on…”_

Izumo-chan? _Too late, he realized she was leaning up to kiss him, a delicate hand resting on his leg._ No, wait! _He backed up, scrambling across the blankets, toppling right off the edge of the bed._

_He expected to hit the floor. Instead, he was sitting in the bar, and it was deserted. Devi sauntered up, exaggerating her hips with each step. She put a mug in front of Renzo, and smiled. “This one’s on the house, okay?” Renzo opened his mouth to protest. “Oh, you don’t want to drink it?” Devi’s hands went to pull her top up, and he could tell from how her shirt clung to her body that she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Then how about I let you lick it up off me instead—on the house, too, of course.”_

_Before Renzo could shut his eyes, a pair of hands covered them. There was the familiar rattle of beads, and a body pressed against his back, the pressure of fabric. “You don’t want to know?” Emília asked, her usual taunting substituted for a lulling whisper. “I thought you were that kind of guy. Don’t tell me you back down when things get real.”_

_Renzo’s vision was cleared up, and Emília was on top of him. He didn’t recognize the room, but that didn’t matter._ I wouldn’t know, _Renzo admitted, though he wasn’t sure if she could even hear what he was saying._ I just wanted to—

_“It’s more fun when you’re with someone. Did you know that sleeping with someone’s a pretty effective way to get information? You wouldn’t be my first, but I think you’d enjoy me being yours.” Unlike Devi, Emília went for Renzo’s pants first, but he couldn’t watch her. Dissatisfied with his lack of reaction, Emília scoffed, slamming her hands onto Renzo’s shoulders. “Stop playing games. What do you want out of me?”_

I don’t—

_“Sex? A relationship? Friends with benefits? A little jerk-off fantasy? Come on, answer me! Own up to your own feelings!”_

I don’t know! _Renzo shouted._ I don’t know, I don’t know! Just leave me alone!

_“Absolutely not,” Emília said, and dropped her head to the opening in his zipper._

* * *

Arthur Auguste Angel had always believed in work ethic and fulfilling duty, and acted on them like no other, even if that meant serving all-nighters filing through paperwork and reports. He fought back one of several yawns forming in his throat, and refocused his vision on the text in front of him. Despite the fact that the True Cross worked on a hierarchical system that tried to limit the amount of work any one person had by spreading it out, the influx of demons and the Illuminati’s activity had increased the Paladin’s workload significantly.

“You do know that after two AM your brain’s functionality decreases, right?” Without knocking, Lewin Light—more commonly known to others as Lightning, Arthur included—entered the room, looking around.

Arthur continued to read while answering, “Then you should get some sleep, my friend.”

Lightning chuckled. The Arc Knight insisted he didn’t need to sleep like normal people, no matter how much Arthur tried to convince the man otherwise. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still try. “You know how things are, Arthur,” Lightning said. “But you’re just going to run yourself into the ground at this rate.” He approached Arthur’s desk, which was covered in papers. Even Arthur had to admit that he would probably have to sleep before completing them, but he still had energy now. Lightning sighed. “Fine, I guess I’ll help.”

If it were anyone else, Arthur would have protested. As Paladin, it was his duty alone to do these things. However, he trusted Lightning, and if neither of them were going to sleep, it would be better to take the collective progress. “Thank you,” Arthur said.

Lightning nodded, pulling up a side chair and snatching a pile of papers for himself. “Looks like there’s a lot of trouble brewing out there. If we keep allocating staff, we’re going to be run pretty thin soon. Next thing you know they’re going to be making temporary exorcists out of Cram School Kids.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that, but if that’s what the Grigori decide, I have no objections.” If guidance was given, it shouldn’t be ignored, though Arthur did actually hope it didn’t come to it. Children didn’t have a place in something like war.

“Huh, what’s this?” Arthur looked up. Usually Lightning didn’t express such interest, especially not in paperwork. Following the prompting of Arthur’s gaze, Lightning said, “Looks like Patiti’s been in some trouble. There’s been a systematic elimination of their research facilities about the counter to the Artificial Gehenna Gates. Nearly half of their facilities went down around the same time. They lost a substantial chunk of data, and several of their men are missing.”

Arthur grimaced. “We asked for their assistance, so the bulk of the responsibility falls on us,” he said. “Are they requesting help? If we don’t offer any, we could lose an ally…”

“Yeah, they want help, but can we really afford it?” Arthur would have protested, but he knew his friend had a point. The Paladin waited to listen to Lightning in full. “We certainly can’t provide security for their remaining facilities—that’s just too much manpower. We might be able to spare the people for an investigation, but I think the project might have to be abandoned.”

Arthur sighed, holding out a hand for the papers. Once he had secured them, he skimmed over the words, hoping for more details. “I wholly wish this not to be an option. If we can’t find a solution to the Gates, Assiah will be easily overrun.” Gripping the papers tighter than necessary, he turned to Lightning. “What sort of solution do you suggest?”

Lightning paused to think. Arthur let him, instead focusing on the damage reports. They were highly detailed, which accounted for the bulk of the document. He tried to find the last page, where the specifics of the Patiti’s request for assistance should have been laid out.

“Well,” Lightning said, “Mephisto’s the one who secured the alliance in the first place. He would probably be the preferred ambassador for the situation.”

Arthur gritted his teeth. _Of course he is._ Dismissing the thought, Arthur shook his head. This was no time for second guesses. “We don’t have much of a choice now do we?”

Lightning’s smile was all the answer that Arthur needed.

* * *

Depending on who you were, lust was easier or more difficult to handle than love.

She considered both to be easy to manage and couldn’t really say one was more difficult than the other. Of course, that made her the exception, and she quite liked that. She was the exception to a lot of things, but only the ones that were worth being proud of. Of course, in this state, maybe, just maybe, lust was a little bit easier to control, but only because vague affection counted as a minor form of love.

But from an observatory standpoint, that wasn’t always the case for others. And she knew what sort of reaction she could cause, knew just what it meant to turn people’s heads, to have them interested. And if you controlled other people’s lust, it was easier to get what you wanted, whether from a sexual or information experience.

Being able to cause those reactions made her feel accomplished. Powerful, even. But in the current case she faced, the one at immediate hand…

Watching other people lose control made the idea of losing your own control much, _much_ more appealing.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

As part of her “get a regular and rational portion of sleep” initiative, Emília had worked to become an early riser, even on weekends. It wasn’t as difficult as people made it seem, but that could be said for any habit. She had also begun working an extended training regimen into her schedule, which meant waking up even earlier, regardless of the previous night’s escapade.

Maybe it was because she had worked herself up to it. Maybe it was how she had brewed up the last batch of pills. Maybe it was old habits kicking in. In any event, Emília didn’t feel tired at all, even though she had slept less than usual. Of course, the human body was said to take two days to actually be affected by the amount of sleep it got, so there was a chance she’d feel groggy tomorrow.

None of that mattered when she got down to focusing, though. The Illuminati main headquarters had a gym in place that ran twenty-four-seven, to accommodate the habits of agents who didn’t function during normal business hours of the town. In fact, most of the facility remained operational, regardless of the time, and personal bedrooms were probably the only ones that had the lights turned off on a regular basis. Although, there was a chance that some maniacs slept with the lights on, too…

_Whatever._

Emília focused her attention on the punching bag in front of her. The borrowed boxing gloves lessened the impact from her point of view, but it wasn’t like she was trying to refine her combat skills or anything. The important part was getting her arms moving, tearing muscle down to build it back up, better. Weights would come after this, and she’d finish off the session with a run just in time to grab some lunch.

“Whoa, Lia, don’t tell me you’re mad today. That’s a lot more sweat and force than usual!”

Emília stopped her punch partway through the action, leaving the punching bag hanging innocently. Harper stood to the side, her pigtails traded for a poofy bun cresting over her skull. After her exorcism, her health had immediately turned upwards, but she had begun basic exercise as a form of rehabilitation. Emília bet it helped the brunette’s mental state as well, so it was good for her regardless. Once Emília had begun her own training, the two often crossed paths.

“Not mad, just making sure to push my limits a bit,” she said, smiling a little. “I still don’t feel enough of a burn when I finish up for the day, so I guess I subconsciously went harder because of it.”

Harper returned the smile, hands clasped behind her back. “If you tear yourself up too much, you won’t be able to do anything at all,” she advised, though it was a moot point. Emília _knew_ that, one of the things easily grained into her memory, remaining in her subconscious at least whenever she was on a job. Still, Harper was just trying to be nice. “But I am glad you’re just working hard. It would have made me sad to see you angry after being in a good mood for so long.”

“Good mood, huh?” Emília repeated. As far as she was concerned, there had been no real change in her mood whatsoever.

Harper nodded, holding the opposing opinion. “Mmhmm!” she hummed, the pitch her voice rising higher than usual. It was a sign of her enthusiasm, and Emília resolved to think over her recent behavior in more detail in the near future. “We really haven’t talked too much lately since you’ve been busy, but my hypothesis is that it started once Ren showed up.”

Emília understood instantly. The Kid? They were really saying this was because of the Kid? It would have taken too long to get into the right state of mind to analyze herself, so Emília pushed it off, rolling her shoulders through a shrug. “Right, there was something I meant to mention to you. Wanna head to the showers together?”

Harper wasn’t the type of person that needed things spelled out for her—despite her perfectly clean shorts and t-shirt, the young scientist fell right into step behind Emília. Fortunately, the room was empty, and Harper took a seat on the bench as Emília turned on a shower head a few stalls away from them.

“I have some things for you to consider in your research,” Emília said.

“ _Oh_?” Harper’s interest immediately spiked up, the girl looking quite ready to begin bouncing at any minute. Emília bridged her hands together and stared at the unoccupied shower curtain in front of her. “You didn’t mention any of this before, Lia. No fair keeping secrets.” The teasing was only half-there, though. It didn’t take long for Harper’s entire existence to begin screaming, _I want to know._

_I have to know. I need it. So come on, tell me already._

Emília made a point not to watch her client’s expression.

“The Myodha Sect has had a long tradition of familiars—most notably, the Hojo family has a bloodline deal with several Nagas. Of course, the qualifications for Tamers are very vague—you know all that grumble on ‘innate talent’ or whatever.” Emília felt a bitterness in her mouth from her own incompetence. “But putting that aside, the Suguro line formed their contract with Karura. In the process, the Shima family also gained a contract bloodline with Yamantaka.”

Harper didn’t care about all the details; Emília knew that. Still, be damned if she was going to give incomplete information. “While the Karura contract could be passed from head to head by blood, Yamantaka’s is less flexible. Black flames are valuable, and the influence they wield makes manifesting them in Assiah more difficult.

“The last Shima to have the contract with Yamantaka was the Kid’s grandfather—Shima Fuuzo. When he passed away, the Shimas went to renew their contract. While it would have been a simple matter to reform the contract with the current head, they instead chose to place it with the heir—the eldest son, Shima Takezo. This way, they hoped to eliminate the hassle of reforming the contract sooner. Takezo was honored, being the ideal heir. However, when the ritual to form the contract was carried out, it failed. Instead, Yamantaka attached himself to the Kid—Renzo, that is.

“He was an infant—hardly even three months old, but Yamantaka chose him. Since the contract can’t be broken any way other than death, there weren’t any redoes. And it’s not like they could have just killed a baby to fix the contract.” Emília snorted. “Not that it mattered much since the Blue Night happened and knocked all the hopes of the Shima family heir down the drain. They would have had to redo it anyway. So much for efficiency.”

It was an unnecessary anecdote to add, namely because Harper had stopped listening. The girl was muttering to herself, probably formulating theories. It was all up to her how she used that information, though it would probably get passed to Cyneric in the near future. Still, that wasn’t something Emília had to trouble herself with.

“…so it’s a contract officially tied to a different master. I guess that’s kind of like us and the Gates. Only Lord Satan is supposed to create it, so we’re forcing the connection through us. If we find a way to strengthen the contract bond, then…” Harper’s mutterings trailed off, and she managed to actually see Emília for the first time in several minutes. “Hey, what’s the deal?” she said. “Like Cy said, you don’t give stuff away for free.”

Emília shrugged. “I spilled some info, so I’m returning the favor,” she explained. It wasn’t a sense of guilt that fueled the exchange—only fairness. The Kid knew some personal things about the Lucassens, so now the Lucassens would know some personal things about the Kid. And in this case, it was helpful information, too, so it could result in a favor—if both Cyneric and Harper didn’t take their loyalties seriously enough already. “That’s about all there is to it.”

“Gah, just what I needed now. Giving me a reason to work on a Saturday. And on top of that I haven’t been able to take a run yet!” Harper huffed, standing up. “Thanks a bunch, but now my schedule’s full, so if you’ll excuse me.” Unnecessarily warming up, Harper jogged out of the shower room, and Emília stood up.

“Later,” she said, though the other girl was long gone. Not in the mood to get soaking wet, Emília left the shower running and headed towards the weights.

* * *

Renzo woke up firmly aware of the fact that doing laundry would be a necessity today. Beyond that, he still felt shaken, and a headache less severe than he had expected throbbed at his temples. He wondered if Emília made headache medicine as well, and briefly considered calling her. He shook some sense into himself, knowing it would just be easier to buy some when he went out to the convenience store.

But before any of that could happen, he needed a shower. He still smelt faintly like the house special, and he felt disgusting on top of that. He had no memory of coming back to his room, so Emília or Nikita must have carried him—and judging by what vague memories he _did_ have, Renzo easily bet that it was the former.

_Ugh, just how much did she notice?_

He didn’t want to think about it. Peeling off his soiled clothes, he headed towards the bathroom. The Western shower system was still something he wasn’t entirely used to, but he was familiar with it enough by now. Turning the shower on, Renzo closed his eyes while waiting for the water to warm up. Beyond the migraine, his head felt all messed up.

“Who decided wet dreams could be nightmares anyway?” he muttered, stepping under the water. He cleaned himself up on autopilot. It was some seriously sick junk going on in his subconscious. It was probably the first time he had regretted dreaming about that sort of thing.

But despite feeling like he’d been run over by several trucks, it had still felt good. Sure, it was a dream, but he had gotten to watch Emília, the way her mouth moved… Realizing the direction his thoughts were going in, Renzo turned the water to its coldest setting for the rest of the shower, forcing himself to stay until he was completely clean.

Spirits dampened somewhat, he dried off and went to get dressed. Most of his casual clothes were from his stint as Sato, and still didn’t feel very him. It would have to do until he got the energy to go shopping, which wasn’t going to be today. Finding a still clean tank top, he put it on with an over shirt, hunger pains pulling attention from his skull to his stomach.

Renzo found his phone plugged into the wall, and flipped it open while digging around in his pockets for his wallet. There weren’t any messages or calls, which meant if Emília or Nikita had planned to taunt him, it wouldn’t be just yet. Other than that, it was past noon, which meant he should get lunch as well. Deciding that he’d rather spend the majority of the day in his room, Renzo gathered up his laundry and resolved to buy take-out at the convenience store.

Being a weekend, the laundry room was pretty crowded, but Renzo found an empty washer to dump his clothes in and swiped someone else’s detergent from their basket to get the job done. Satisfied that it would be finished by the time he got back or someone would switch it on their own if he was late, Renzo headed out into the town.

He hadn’t memorized the town layout as well as the base, but it couldn’t be that hard to find a convenience store around here, and the base was easily visible to return to. Getting lost shouldn’t even been an issue in his situation.

It took some time, but after wandering for a while, Renzo found a place to fit all his needs. He browsed through the magazine rack, picking up a small stack before heading on to the food. It wasn’t anything like a Japanese store, and Renzo didn’t recognize anything, so he picked something that looked relatively tasty and moved on. Feeling like making a habit hijacking other Illuminati members’ belongings was in bad taste, he grabbed some laundry soap before heading up to the counter.

The only cashier available at the moment was a guy, but Renzo didn’t feel up to playing around at the moment. The important thing was to get his stuff together and get back to the base. When prompted, he whipped out his Illuminati card, aware that he _still_ hadn’t figured out his balance. Then again, it was a convenience store, so it wasn’t like it would knock out his resources, and the only other time he had used it was when he had gone to the café with Emília…

“You’re supposed to be a spy, not a shut-in,” he mumbled, stepping back into the streets. Using the massive white building itself to guide him back, Renzo navigated the streets. At this rate, there was a chance that everyone might get suspicious of him. Of course, changing his attitude might just make it worse, and if he asked Emília for advice that could give an unnecessary hint. Ugh, at this point he would even take talking to the Headmaster, but that wasn’t until the end of the month…

Renzo shook his head. _I can’t be that paranoid. Start that up and Emília will read it for sure. Besides, I don’t think she’d get suspicious over that… She trusts me, right?_

Trying to think about Emília only sent his thoughts in the wrong direction, and Renzo quickened his pace. Soon enough he was climbing the steps to the base, and he would have thrown open the door if it wasn’t on a pressurized spring. He whipped down the hallways on autopilot, resolving to stuff his face and properly work off all this frustration so that he could go back to doing what he was _supposed_ to do.

“Ah, if it’s not Shima Renzo-kun. How have you been?”

Trying not to stand too awkwardly, Renzo turned around, only to find Todo Saburota, possibly the last person he wanted to see right now. Glancing at the bag in his hand, Renzo moved it behind his back. “I’ve been alright,” he said. “Mostly busy.”

To be perfectly honest, Renzo had almost forgotten about the man. They had worked together while infiltrating the Deep Keep, and Todo had been the one to tell Renzo to stay put in Kyoto, but that all felt like ages ago. But Todo _was_ an Illuminati member, so it only stood that he would be here, too.

It was also a completely different matter to see him aged down, the side-effect of having Karura forcibly possess him. Still, all of that didn’t change the fact that Renzo couldn’t find a good way to leave without sounding suspicious.

“Yeah, the same for me,” Todo said. Light conversation only made Renzo feel queasy. “I actually have some meetings to get to, so if you’ll excuse me. Maybe we can talk some other time.”

“Yeah.” _Or not._ Waving, Renzo waited until Todo was out of sight, then bolted towards his room.

At this point, he wouldn’t even let Emília stop him.

* * *

Having the opportunity to send a message to Shima probably should have made Konekomaru feel better. Somehow, the whole situation only managed to make him feel worse.

He couldn’t think of much to say aside from casual conversation. He should have had questions to ask, but he wasn’t comfortable forwarding them through the Headmaster. Konekomaru would have felt better if he could talk to Shima in person, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Realistically they wouldn’t even be able to see each other until Renzo’s infiltration was over.

_And who knows when that’s going to be…_

Bon wasn’t around at the moment, so the whole dorm room felt even emptier. All of Shima’s belongings were still there, a mess neither Konekomaru nor Bon could bring themselves to clean up. They just went on with their lives, Bon barreling ahead with even more force than usual.

_Shima,_

Konekomaru stopped his pen. He had been waffling around the message for hours. It was time to get things done or not at all.

_Things have been pretty dull since we got back from Inari. We’ve all been worried about you, but nothing else big has happened yet. Just Cram School and the usual. A couple days ago we convinced the Headmaster to let us send you some messages, but I get it if you don’t want to go back._

_Izumo told me some things. Not much, but in passing. She said you told her you hate everything. Is that true? I can’t stop worrying about it. I keep thinking that maybe Bon and I were the problem, even though you said he wasn’t. I can’t help thinking about you in Kyoto and how you ran away, because I think you were tired of everything. I can’t blame you._

_I’m jealous because I want to run away sometimes, too. I want to help Ossan and Okami, but I don’t know how to handle being the head of the Miwa family. And I was jealous because you had all your siblings, but I know how stressed it made you, so really I just feel conflicted all the time. But still, I know you couldn’t exactly share everything, but I wanted you to, even if I don’t deserve it._

_Bon’s taking it really hard, you know. He’s been working himself harder than usual, like it’ll get you back faster or something. I don’t know what he said in his message to you. I can’t offer any sort of words for us. And I know it’s dangerous, but if you could talk to us, send anything back to us,_ please _._

_Shima, I don’t understand, what were you thinking—_

Konekomaru stopped. There wasn’t anything else he could add, anything else he could really say without pushing it. He was already pushing it. Folding the paper into thirds, Konekomaru stuffed it in an envelope, knowing that it would probably be read by the Headmaster or not at all.

* * *

By the definition of the human condition, humans were social creatures. The most obvious reason for this was reproduction—it took two people to create new life, so having other people around was an essential. But even more past that, people got lonely. People tended to crave communication, whether it was verbal or even text-based.

But sometimes people would desire alone time, for which the reasons varied. Most often, it would be to accomplish tasks that could be difficult to do around others, or even for a bit of self-reflection.

But not all isolation could be out of positive reasons. Sometimes it involved fear, or nervousness. Other times, people would throw themselves into isolation unintentionally, becoming so focused they would ignore everything around them. He couldn’t really call himself that noble or that determined. He was just stumbling.

But he knew he wasn’t really content with sitting around alone, practicality aside. Being social would be nice. Having people to talk to, even if it was fake, would be nice. Maybe actually making a connection? Getting somewhere?

He wasn’t sure if it was really friendship he was looking for, but he knew he would take anything at this point.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Fourteen

* * *

Arlie Nikita could take transcribing anything that came from the Intelligence Division if need be. It was boring, sometimes unnecessary. It wasn’t like typing up their own reports was really _that_ much of a hassle. But Arlie at least understood that it was work, and xe would do what needed be to make the whole department run smoother.

But when people from other divisions came waltzing into xir office, Arlie found that xe had more issues with that than anything else.

Todo Saburota had taken up residence in the guest chair in Arlie’s office. Much like Shima, the man had been in a convenient position in the True Cross, plus had the right sort of mentality to be easily shifted across the loyalty barrier. The most notable distinction in this place was that Shima had returned to the Intelligence Division, while Todo had dropped off his initial intel and disappeared.

Making it look like xe was navigating his tablet in standard mode, Arlie navigated to Emília’s database and pulled up Todo’s file, skimming over the info as quick as xe could.

“So you’ve been looking into defense structures around major True Cross Order facilities,” Arlie said, establishing the brief flicker of eye contact necessary to keep the conversation rolling. “Explain to me why that means that you need to utilize my services? Last I checked, you have all the expertise to process your own reports, or am I just overestimating you?”

“I received a notice that I was to report directly to the Intelligence Division in this case.”

Arlie grimaced internally, keeping a straight face for Todo. The notice could have come from either Lucifer or Emília. If it were the latter, she could have at _least_ had the decency to mention it. Xe would pursue the matter later, when professionalism was less of an issue. “Alright, then, as you can understand, I am rather busy. Would you mind telling me the necessary details?”

Todo only smiled. “My orders were to give as comprehensive a report as possible. Surely you understand the importance of this information,” he said. Oh, he wanted a word battle? Fine, Arlie could handle that. Xe had never liked Todo much anyway.

“All information has importance,” Arlie countered. “Putting priorities on information makes it difficult to actually analyze any of it.” Emília had taught xem that from the start. She pounded it into the head of every Intelligence Division member; this was not a place to be biased. “If you want someone with far more time than I do, there are plenty of skilled members that can take down your account.”

“Yes, but I recall that you’re the best, right?” Arlie hated that xe couldn’t tell whether or not it was flattery—it was true, after all. That was why Emília had given xem the position in the first place. “This also has a confidentiality order placed on it. Spreading the information unnecessarily could lead to…leaks.”

“The higher-ups think that there’s a spy here,” Arlie deadpanned. Before Todo could open his mouth, xe continued. “Or several, yes, thank you. Todo, you do realize that this sort of behavior is to be expected, given the sort of operation we’re running here. We do have precautions set up against these things, and I don’t appreciate your insinuations, and I’m sure the Boss wouldn’t either. Now, did you come to actually accomplish anything useful, or are you just trying to start a fight?’

Todo at least had the decency to appear shocked—whether it was real, Arlie doubted. “I only came to do as ordered, Nikita,” he said, holding up his hands in front of his chest. “I do apologize if it seemed like I intended otherwise. I just think a certain sense of precaution is necessary, though I wish we didn’t have to do things like doubt our own comrades. We are on the same side after all.”

 _When it comes to you, I highly doubt that._ But Arlie smiled, trying to replicate Emília’s own cooperative expression. “Alright, then,” xe said, actually pulling up his text application this time. “Why don’t you go ahead and get started. I’d like to not be late for lunch.”

* * *

“Well, at the very least, your pronunciation of English has improved. Your accent’s way less obvious, but it’s still there.”

“Are you just saying that because you have an insane ear for any spoken language or because whoever I’m infiltrating will actually notice?” Renzo countered. Getting back into work had been easier than he thought, at least until Emília forcefully downloaded a language program onto his tablet. “Speaking of which, when _am_ I going on another mission again?”

“Either until Har and Cy get bored of you or you can get through one full conversation not blending your r’s and l’s,” Emília said. Both of those scenarios were unlikely, and Renzo wondered which one was more likely to take less than a year. “And I’m serious about this accent thing. It’s one thing if your role is a foreigner. But if you have to blend in with native speakers, they’ll notice, even if it’s just their subconscious. I’d like nothing more than to ship you off somewhere and see what you can do, but I can’t do that in good conscious if you don’t have at least two languages _solidly_ under your belt. Like I said, perfect your English and we’ll see.”

The application finally finished, Renzo opened it, toggling through the options. Obviously, major languages like English, Spanish, and both variations of Chinese were listed, then the list disintegrated into a collection of nationalities Renzo had hardly heard of, let alone pronounce. “So what am I supposed to do with this?” he asked. “Just play around and pick some stuff up?”

“Well, I don’t expect you to be able to learn more than three or four languages at your age.” Emília shrugged, then looked at him. “Come on, that’s not an insult. The Japanese have the right idea teaching English from elementary school, but the older you get, the harder it is to learn a whole new language. I’d say pick another Asian language or Spanish, since it’s a pretty good staple. If you really want your value to go up, pick yourself something obscure.”

In either case, the options didn’t sound too good. Sure, he got the whole point, but wasn’t English the global language at this point? If he mastered that, he should be able to go anywhere. But Emília probably had a counter to that up her sleeve, too, so Renzo just let it be. “Okay, so what’s your suggestion?”

Emília didn’t even look up. “Think of this as another exercise in self-evaluation.”

Renzo pouted. It almost felt like Emília was ignoring him, which he knew was ridiculous. He should be happy she still gave him this much of her time in the first place. But she was the Division Head, so her workload must’ve been pretty heavy… Sheesh, he was getting spoiled. But still, she had been the one to start this whole mess in the first place, so surely she took on some of the responsibility.

“Okay, but what do I get if I do a good job?” Renzo chanced, making sure to keep at least half of his tone joking in case Emília wasn’t in the mood for his whims. She didn’t look annoyed, so he kept going. “I mean, you took me out to dinner for being a good lab rat. Does the reward system continue?”

“That depends,” Emília said. She sat aside her tablet, finally making eye contact. She looked playful, which alleviated several of Renzo’s worries. “Normally, I’d say that making progress on yourself is enough of a reward, but I know you don’t think that way.” Renzo shrugged, showing off an apologetic grin. “So then if I give you an alternate reward, I’m sure it would increase your effort, right?”

Relaxing into his own seat, Renzo replied, “Aw, you know me so well.”

“If that’s the case, then I’m sure you’d enjoy extending your presence into my personal life.” Renzo couldn’t believe it was this easy; it was too good to be true. “Fine then. I personally don’t like sit-down events, so if you plan to take me on a date, please just make it something active. Also, please don’t think I’m going to take this too seriously. I’m really over the notion that all dates have to be something romantic.”

He didn’t care; he’d take it. “And what do I get if I can make you take it seriously?” Renzo added.

Emília only smirked. “I highly doubt that’s possible.”

Even with a lighthearted tone, they were pretty harmful words. Renzo had rebounded form worse, though, so taking the words with a grain of salt was pretty easy. Part of him knew the behavior was just a ploy to get himself through things, and the rest was just trying to deal with the fact that he still had this issue in the first place.

_But I still…_

“Then I’ll just reserve the right to a big reward if I do,” he said. “If you don’t think it’s possible, there’s not much for you to lose, right?”

“I’m not so foolish to think that a statistical improbability is anything like an impossibility,” Emília snapped. Renzo flinched back a little even though she was a ways across the room for him. Her expression lightened up pretty easily in comparison, letting Renzo drop his defenses again. “Besides, I’d say that if you could accomplish something like that, you’d deserve a pretty big reward. Though I do have limits, so don’t go thinking you can cross whatever line you want.”

Renzo grinned. _So she’s actually saying I do have a chance, even if it is a slim one._ “I’d rather have those sorts of things done out of your own free will, thanks,” he said. Whether or not that scored him any points was quickly interrupted by a knock on the door—following some rhythm Renzo couldn’t identify.

Emília stood up, striding across the room. “You hungry, Kid? I think Arlie’s ready to go to lunch.”

* * *

Emília frowned, toying around with her fork. Arlie had hardly touched xir tray since sitting down, and the Kid was the only one in the triad to start to pick at their food, the occasional piece actually making it to the mouth. He had been listening the whole time, but apparently had run out of smart remarks after trying to score a date—while working nonetheless.

“It had to be an order from the higher-ups,” she said, breaking the contemplative pause—silence wasn’t really an option, even in the back corner of the cafeteria. “I never insisted on something like that, though there’s probably a notice buried in my paperwork that I missed this morning.”

Arlie frowned, more out of concern than annoyance. “Boss, if you want me to help with your load—”

Emília smacked xir arm to cut the comment off. “You were just complaining about not wanting to be a secretary. Don’t go contradicting yourself.” In this line of work, sticking through with your personal convictions was necessary, just so you didn’t lose yourself in a role. Emília liked Arlie as was—no adjustments necessary. “I can handle the extra busywork, so you just take care of your role, okay?”

“Yeah, I know…”

Why did xe have to look so disheartened? Relaxing her tone, Emília have her third-in-command an accompanying smile. “I need you right where you are, Arlie. Don’t forget that.”

The reassurance managed to bring a smile to the bigender’s face, and an assenting nod to boot. “You’re right. Thank you for reminding me.”

Emília waved the thanks off, glancing at the Kid. He had seemingly given up on eating, and was now openly staring. Once he caught on that she was returning the favor, he refocused his gaze onto his less than enthralling lunch tray. “Take this as a situation to be proud of, Arlie. Higher-ups recognizing your talent is never a bad thing.” Unless they used it to corner you into the most boring job in existence, but Emília had been the one to agree, so it was really her own fault. “Still, what pisses me off the most is that they can’t even tell me they think there’s a spy in my division. Feh, I could rat out the seventy-some spies in the Illuminati from the True Cross alone if they were that concerned about it.”

“You think there are that many?” the Kid asked, pausing halfway through bringing his pop can to his mouth.

Arlie, finally content enough to start on xir soup, swallowed before answering: “We know there are. Each potential member is checked through the Boss’s files and analyzed by Personnel using a system she developed. Anyone that seems even relatively suspicious has a background check done by Micah, and if they’re confirmed as a spy, they’re allowed to infiltrate, but kept in a position where they won’t be a threat and fed relatively useless information to keep their efforts in check.”

Renzo’s eyes sharpened quicker than Emília thought they would have. He was becoming more observant, that was for sure. Of course, he probably didn’t notice it himself, but she could at least appreciate it. “You mentioned that name before. Who is that?” the Kid asked, directing his attention to both of them.

“The second-in-command,” Emília answered, trying to throw their gazes off. Sure, it was one thing to be looked to for answers and approval, but she at least expected Arlie to act on xir own. “He has his own set of quirks, so you probably won’t see him anytime soon. Just know that he puts as much work into things as I do.”

Still feeling playful, Renzo smiled a little. “Which is to say without Nikita here we’d be sunk.”

Okay, that was a good one. Not wanting to have an argument start over something as ridiculous as disrespect, Emília decided it was best to move on. “In any event, if they have some issue with our system, they should just tell us. Ugh, unless Miss Glasses is just trying to get under my skin…” Emília resisted the urge to grimace. That woman was the last person they needed on her bad side.

“I’ll put in some official inquiries—polite documentation they can’t argue with, Boss,” Arlie quickly corrected. It was incredible how easily xe could come to solutions that Emília could agree with. _Xe’s always so willing to please…_ Before she had considered it annoying, but now she appreciated it a lot more than she could imagine. “If they need us to revise our system to keep them happy, the least they can do is not work around us.”

“Wait,” Renzo said. Emília finally picked up her sandwich and took a bite, signaling her intent to listen. “You heard this from Todo, right?” Efficient as always, Arlie nodded. “Then there’s a chance he was just saying things from his own gut feeling—or just to stir up trouble.”

 _Not bad._ Really, she had made the best choice possible. “You worked with him to secure the Impure King’s Left Eye,” Emília said. “What was he like? Do you think that’s something he would do, or are you just pulling theories out of your ass?”

The Kid deflated some, but didn’t retract the theory. He must have had a pretty solid idea going on. “From what I saw, he’s the type that’s willing to do what it takes to get something done. But in that regard, he’s also got a lot of frustration built up…there’s a chance he might misplace that on others.” That probably came from personal experience. “And beyond that, I guess it’s more of a gut feeling than anything.”

Personally, Emília agreed with that gut feeling, mostly because it was reinforced by her own gut feeling. “But we can’t take any real course of action just based on a gut feeling,” Arlie said.

“But we _can_ investigate it to see if it’s warranted,” Emília said, feeling satisfied. She raised a hand, resting her cheek on it. “Nothing too drastic or we’ll get called on for being suspicious, but we can ask the top brass what the deal is, plus keep an ear out for anything Todo does. Simple, little things that don’t take up too much of our time but still get us somewhere.”

“Work smarter, not harder,” Arlie muttered, almost under xir breath. The Kid nodded blankly, back to the whole staring bit again. Arlie spoke up before Emília could take a jab: “What?”

“Nothing,” Renzo said, sounding breathless. “You guys are just pretty cool. And also terrifying.”

The words made Emília fell a bit prouder than she should have.

* * *

Mephisto twirled his umbrella as Takara Nemu approached, mostly waiting for something to do with his hands. The third party exorcist seemed as sleepy as usual, even though Mephisto could feel their contract wavering as easily as humans felt the breeze on their skin. He didn’t feign any concern, not even trying to conceal his grin.

“My, my,” he said, “it seems like my dear students just can’t keep themselves healthy, now can they?”

“We’re doing fine,” Nemu said through his puppet. It would have sounded convincing, but Mephisto knew better. “Our state is unimportant right now. We were asked to tell you of the trouble that’s been happening, though I’m certain you know already.”

Mephisto snapped his fingers, summoning his favorite armchair and a beanbag on the side. He settled into his own seat, though Takara ignored the beanbag. Mephisto kept mobile by tapping his umbrella against the armrest. “Ah, yes, Patiti’s trouble with their facilities lately.” Even Angel had contacted him about the ordeal. If his contact with Patiti was speaking up about it, perhaps it was time to do something. “You do know forces are running low right now.”

“They know,” Nemu confirmed. “They still want action to show the trust in this partnership. And the Paladin has designated the task to you.” That had such a nice ring to it. “The outbreak of attacks has decreased, but there was still a major information leak.”

“And what about your own spies? Have they found anything useful?”

“What about Shima Renzo?”

Mephisto snickered. “In that case, assure the boy’s father that we’ll be making a move to show our attention very soon,” he said.

Not missing a beat, the demon protecting Takara Nemu’s body sighed. “You don’t know how to take things straightforwardly, do you, Samael?”

* * *

Responsibility could manifest itself in many forms.

Most often, people would act in the interest of fulfilling the requirements of “Take responsibility for your own actions!” Just as often, people act in the interest of running away from their responsibility, not able to handle the burden. People who couldn’t handle the weight of their own responsibilities could easily be defined as pathetic.

Negative responsibility manifested as guilt. That was an emotion you couldn’t have in this sort of existence.

Positive responsibility manifested itself as pride. That was an emotion that could be dangerous in large amounts. That didn’t stop her from feeling it, though. Slowly but surely, she was forming a real spy out of the Kid, someone that could observe and take critical action in a situation. For two short months, he had made great progress.

_And I guided him._

_That was partially because of me._

Sometimes, pride could give birth to attachment.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Fifteen

* * *

A week and a half in, the experiments had become routine enough that Cyneric couldn’t be bothered to spend any more time away from the Artificial Gehenna Gate project, leaving Renzo alone with Harper as his sole observer. Renzo couldn’t really blame the other man, considering he didn’t even see why they were still doing this. The usual motivation of being able to flirt with Harper sans the oppressing aura of her brother just wasn’t there for him.

Normally, Renzo would have worried that something was wrong, but his excitement was just directed in other places.

“You’re in a good mood,” Harper noted. Renzo was still a bit blurry on his thoughts, having only been awake for about five minutes, but he could still nod enthusiastically without feeling woozy. Harper giggled. “I take it something good happened?”

“Yeah,” Renzo said. Unlike her brother, Harper seemed to lack the capability to write and listen at the same time, her pencil stopping above the latest edition to the trash data pile. “I actually got Emília to agree to go on a date with me.”

It was a bit of exaggeration, but the fact still remained that this afternoon he’d be spending one-hundred percent alone time with her—no work, no three-way dinners with Arlie. Apparently she had a way to remotely monitor his language app to see his progress, and while Renzo didn’t feel like he’d really learned anything, Emília had been satisfied enough to give him his reward.

Harper chewed on the end of her pencil, a habit she was free to do without supervision. She claimed it was revenge for Cyneric biting his hangnails off while she wasn’t looking. “For real, huh?” she said. “Heh, I guess she figured if you went on a date with her, you wouldn’t want to do it again. Silly girl.”

“Yup, I figured as much,” Renzo chirped. To her, this was probably just a way to get him more into his work. And while it had worked, he still thought she had agreed to it too easily, even if that was just false hope. “She’s not serious about me at all, and I’m not really serious about her. It just seems like fun, really, not much else.”

Harper’s worn down pencil nearly hit Renzo in the face. He didn’t think taking his eye out would help his problem with Yamantaka _or_ the Gehenna Gates. “Nuh-uh,” she rejected, “she’s super into you.”

She was probably just saying that to make Renzo feel better about the situation. Still, playing along wouldn’t hurt. “Why’s that?” he asked, his unearned excitement fueling his halfway feigned curiosity.

“Duh, ‘cause she went and dug up all that info on you,” Harper said. Renzo didn’t process the implications until Harper’s clipboard just barely missed colliding with her nose in the girl’s haste to cover her mouth. “No, no, I wasn’t supposed to say that, pleasejustforgetit.”

If forgetting it had been that easy, Renzo would have. But part of him was still paranoid, that what if in getting his information scanned, they had found him suspicious, enough that he had needed to go past second-in-command Micah, straight to Emília herself. Sure, Renzo had checked to see if he was tagged in any sort of data, but the first thing Emília had taught him was how to eliminate data trails…

_I might have to get out, but I might not. I contact Mephisto tonight, so if I need to make a run for it, I’m sure I can. But if this is all just me being paranoid, I can’t lose my position over it—_

“Sorry, I can’t,” he told Harper, managing to sound calm if nothing else. “Please, what did she say?” The scientist looked like she was on the verge of tears, and Renzo knew he would hate himself if he let a girl cry. He switched to the part of him that would have been flattered if he _wasn’t_ a double agent. “I-I just… If you say she really likes me, what’d she look up about me?”

Harper fidgeted a bit, but finally dipped to the floor cross-legged, leveling her eyes with Renzo’s. “I don’t know everything, because Emí’s Emí, and the only reason she told me was because she said she had told something to you.” There was no point in trying to deny it; Renzo nodded. “Then if I’m going to say, I want you to say, too. Then we’re even.”

“She told me the circumstances that led to you and your brother joining the Illuminati.” Maybe under other circumstances he would have hesitated, but Renzo couldn’t afford not to know. “Just the vague details of your possession and how she met Cyneric…and that he doesn’t have a Temptaint.” He didn’t really see the last bit as important, but Emília hadn’t elaborated, so then it must have been.

Harper nodded. Part of her seemed relaxed, though she was chewing her lip. Seriously, was she still on the fence about it? “Emí told me about your contract,” she whispered. “About how you got it, and where it went wrong. She thought it would help you and the Gates. And I do, too. I mean, if we can find a way to circumvent the original contract, we should be able to fix your issue, and maybe adjust the bond on the Gates.”

Renzo didn’t care about the Gates, or his own contract—at least, not at the moment. But he did care about one thing, and that was the best way to get to it.

“Hey,” he said, wondering if this was a good idea, “if I think about it, I should be able to remember some of the wording of the contract—maybe all of it. If I…could get that for you, would you let me know if Emília says anything else?” Renzo’s face felt hot, and he didn’t know how to blush at will. It was probably from the intense look Harper was giving him.

“That would be awesome,” she said. “Anything, even a few sentences. That’d be enough for the Tamers to analyze, maybe get something helpful off of.” Refocusing on Renzo, Harper put a hand on his shoulder. “And even if you can’t, I’ll let you know, okay? You’re good for Emí, so please take care of her.”

Ah, yes, the perfect stress relief: someone _else_ expecting things out of him.

As if he needed another heart attack in his life.

* * *

Since there was no guarantee they would have finished work at the same time, Renzo and Emília had agreed to just meet up at the nearby park—there was a hiking trail connected, which Renzo had figured would help with her “staying active” condition, plus if they were in the middle of nowhere with no one else around—and Harper had let him go to get ready early, so Renzo wasn’t late. Of course, Emília was punctual as one could be to a meeting without a time, so she was already there by the time he arrived.

Renzo knew he should play it cool—laugh it off, let Harper do the work for him. But the walk had given him enough time to calm his fear and to build his anger. Being mad was something that really worse him out in the end, but for now, he had enough adrenaline to argue with her.

Standing up from a bench, Emília raised her eyebrow. Against the ground, her foot tapped, showing her desire to get moving. Still, she offered, “Wanna rest? It’s kind of a long walk.”

“No,” Renzo said, his voice sounding more drained and subdued than he had expected. “I’m okay. I want to talk, and it shouldn’t be someplace where people can overhear.”

“Alright then.” The lack of a jab meant she had recognized it wasn’t another corny pickup line. It was just more disconcerting that she went ahead and accepted it. Renzo’s insides churned from his stomach to his lungs, and Emília turned, gesturing to the trail’s entrance. “The whole point of picking this place was so that we could be alone, right?”

Renzo tried to smile. Besides, it was a date—a real one and not just a joke. He should have been happy. He had years of practice acting like he was anyway. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said, following her lead. “Though I figured more that you’d like some privacy.”

Emília didn’t look impressed. “Not that you were trying to make a move?”

“Of course not!” Renzo laughed, and he was disgusted with how easily the sound came out, like it was nothing. “Come on, I know better. If I made a move, you’d take me out, favorite or not.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“Eh?” Renzo stopped, but Emília pressed on, forcing him to follow. He wondered if this was really a good idea considering he had spent his whole afternoon knocking himself unconscious, but it was too late to turn back. Emília set the pace, easily leaving Renzo behind. Suddenly, after a few minutes of not saying anything, Emília stopped and pivoted, nearly colliding into Renzo’s chest.

“Your fake smiles are no good here,” she growled, and Renzo knew the time for playing coy was over. “Don’t walk up to me like you want to tear into me, then just chicken out. I _know_ what you’re like, for Christ’s sake. If you have something to say but want to fake it, at least put some effort into trying to catch me off guard, _Kid_.”

He tried to remember her being angry before but realized he couldn’t do it. Sure, frustrated, even annoyed. But angry? Emília always had had such a handle over her emotions that he hadn’t even considered anger as something she was capable of.

_And here I am stuck on the receiving end…_

Renzo inhaled, then exhaled, trying not to feel hurt by how pointed Emília’s gaze was.

“I don’t care that you told,” he said, and somehow it was true. Who cared if back home he was some sort of screw up? The failed contract, stuck in the shadow of his elder brother… None of that mattered here, because he was an Illuminati spy and they didn’t _need_ Takezo, they needed Renzo, so _who cared about that?_ “But if you knew you should have had the decency to let me know so I didn’t tiptoe around it like an idiot.”

There was a force in his words, and it made him feel powerful.

Emília only laughed, though. That’s all she ever seemed to do was laugh, like she was better. She _was_ better than him, something he couldn’t even hope to achieve. “I don’t want to hear it,” she said, stepping closer, her face centimeters from his. “The first thing you did was research me, try to dig up anything you could. What made you think I wouldn’t do the same? What makes you think people don’t try that sort of shit all the time, and that’s why I cover up my tracks? Your life is an open book between the Academy and Kyoto, so you have no right to complain about people digging up your data trail and not mentioning it.”

She stepped back, her anger simmering down. “And if you wanted me to know that badly, you would have told me or mentioned it to Cy and Har earlier.”

 _Brat,_ Renzo thought, before realizing he was one, too. “If I wanted you to know then I would have told you, don’t you think?” He didn’t have the energy to yell anymore, but he could still talk. “I never asked for you to go snooping into my business.”

“I think you’re a fool for not realizing the type of people you’re dealing with—we’re intelligence officers; information is our _job_ ,” Emília countered, and Renzo knew she was right. “And I what I think is that you’re a coward for not erasing any of your information even though I taught you how to do it. Still attached to your old life, huh?”

She was pushing him. He couldn’t tell if it was over wanting to win the argument or because she was trying to see how he would react. Something cracked at those words, the final pry on his uncertainty. Renzo clenched his fists, his whole body tensing as Emília smiled at him—not as if the whole thing hadn’t happened, but with perfect awareness and clarity and _still_ emerging pleased.

“Come on, now,” she said, blending cheer and taunting, “this is supposed to be your special reward. You want to ruin it with this?”

He didn’t know what she was asking for—a challenge, a façade? But he had spent the entire day excited about the chance to have a real date with her, and he wasn’t going to let that energy go to waste. Taking deep breaths through his nose, Renzo brought the excitement back, channeling it into what he thought was a passable smile. Going to stand beside her, he grabbed onto Emília’s hand. He had been sure to be gentle, but she had jumped anyway.

Looking closer, he noticed the difference: she was tense. Becoming aware of the situation, Emília started to make her muscles relax. Renzo laughed without meaning to, squeezing her fingers lightly. “Come on,” he said, and it was still too easy to joke again, to act like everything was okay. “It’s just holding hands. Haven’t you ever been on a date before?”

“It’s different,” Emília retorted, though she didn’t sound as hostile as before. “It’s one thing to go on a date as someone else. When I’m someone else, I know them inside and out. When I’m just Emília, I don’t go on dates.” Renzo frowned. She had placed that much of a distinction between herself and who she was on a mission? He didn’t know if that was dedicated or insane.

Not looking at him, Emília said something else. He just barely heard the words but couldn’t understand the language they were spoken in.

* * *

In the end, the date had been enough to be considered fun, but Renzo got the feeling that was because of how Emília handled herself. Before, Renzo couldn’t have imagined thinking there was anything wrong with her reactions. Now, for the first time, he thought he had actually had the experience of watching her fake everything, from her smile to her goodbye.

He rolled over on his bed, making sure the tablet was securely plugged into the wall. Mephisto would be calling soon enough, and he couldn’t be focusing on his pity date, concerns of what was real and what was faked aside. This was supposed to be spying, not falling for girls.

_Why’d you have to slip up like that? Why couldn’t you have been perfect? You could have made it seem like you were enjoying yourself, but you didn’t._

Realistically, he couldn’t blame her. He had been the one to handle the situation poorly, reacting with anger instead of logic. That had been his fault and no one else’s. If Emília hadn’t felt like giving him a good date, she had every right. It’s not like that had been part of the reward deal anyway.

Renzo’s phone rang, and he flipped it open only to hear the sharp _crack!_ of a popper, followed by several out of tune party favors. The phone was dropped to the floor, subsequently buried under a small pile of letters that had seemingly materialized like oversized confetti.

 _“Did I overdo it?”_ the Headmaster asked as Renzo lifted the phone to his ear. Renzo wondered if the demon’s magic made it possible to see expressions through phone lines; he had one hell of a grimace to share at the moment. _“I just wanted to let you celebrate—these are gifts from your classmates after all.”_

Renzo frowned, picking up one of the letters and flipping it over. Okumura’s atrocious handwriting adorned the paper, and there was a chance it wasn’t even legible. Looking them over, it seemed like Shiemi’s was the largest—he could see her getting too caught up and just writing down whatever she thought—and even Takara had included a small note. Anything containing Bon’s handwriting was completely missing, and it looked like Izumo had nearly ripped holes in the paper with her pencil she had written with such force.

“This is pretty risky,” he said, gathering up the envelopes. “What if someone goes through my stuff? Just because I have one person on my side, that doesn’t mean everyone couldn’t be suspicious.” At this point, he wasn’t even sure if Emília _was_ on his side. The smartest thing to do would be to read the pile and burn them up somewhere—or just make Mephisto take them back.

 _“Do you have reason to think that you’re compromised right now?”_ The Headmaster didn’t sound very concerned about that idea.

Renzo thought it over. Todo’s words had just implied that there _might_ be suspicions of an unfound spy. It could have been a ruse, but it also could hold true. His words also implied that the suspected leak might have been in the Intelligence Department. Nikita was looking into the situation, more concerned with the actions of the higher-ups. And Emília…

Renzo forced himself to focus on concrete facts. She had taken him on a date as a reward for his work. She had taken him under his wing. She had gotten into a fight with him, calling him out for his naiveté. But when the prospect of there being a spy had arose, she hadn’t even looked on him right away—not in a way to share thoughts or show suspicion.

“No,” Renzo said, and he was sure of it. If Emília didn’t suspect him, there was no need to worry. “Things are getting a bit uptight around here, but there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll reestablish your data connection, just to keep you up to date.” Picking up his idle tablet, Renzo activated his backdoor access, a chibi version of the Headmaster on the screen indicating that the connection was a success.

_“Alright. Things seem to be doing well, then. Anything big to report?”_

“No major breakthroughs that are cause for an emergency. There are no major plans for going after the True Cross in the near future, but I’ll let you know if those plans change.” His eyes drifting back to the pile of letters, Renzo sighed. “Do I want to know what everyone else is thinking with these?”

 _“Yes, that,”_ the Headmaster said. _“They made a big show of bursting into my office two weeks ago, insisting to know how you were and to be able to make contact with you. I’ve been thinking of ways to get their minds occupied, but I figured letting messages through would be a good first step in sedating them. Anything you want to share so they don’t think I’m shirking on my promise?”_

Yeah, that sounded about right. Honestly, those guys were making this whole thing difficult. “Well, I’m not going to read them all now and write out answers.” They would have to wait for something like that, _if_ he ever decided to take the risk. He didn’t want to thank them, either, since it was more of a nuisance than anything. “But if you could ask Bon and Konekomaru to look into the Shima Family’s contract at Kyoto, that could save me some trouble.”

 _“Ah, circumventing the contract then?”_ Mephisto asked, and Renzo felt his stomach kick—having people know just made him feel ridiculous. _“I’d say that sounds like a pretty worthwhile achievement. Though why not ask Yamantaka himself?”_

Renzo only laughed, feeling just as hollow as before. “If that sort of thing worked, I would have tried it a long time ago.”

* * *

Anger had always seemed like something internal. It could only be generated from him, and not be able to reach out otherwise. In retrospect, it was a pretty self-centered viewpoint, but Renzo couldn’t care about that. In all honesty, he couldn’t understand other people, so thinking they could generate the same feeling as him seemed ridiculous.

_Ikari._

_Daikirai._

Except the real issue was, then, that he had no idea how to handle those feelings coming off of others. He watched other people get angry without realizing they were angry and dismissed that sort of thing as too much hard work. But with those sorts of feelings getting directed at him…

Bon as he left.

Izumo as he taunted her, dismissed her familiars for dead.

Emília as she called him out on what he really was.

They had taken their feelings out on him with no reservations. They had to hate him, then. If that was how you were supposed to be when you hated something, when you despised it, to unleash all that pent up anger on them…

He could call it too much work, but Renzo didn’t think he hated people enough to actually make them deal with it.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Sixteen

* * *

In the days after their date, Emília had returned to her usual level of professionalism and casual relations. Renzo could hardly manage keeping up, but he did it anyway—Emília gave no room for hesitation after all. And, slowly, Renzo started to shift back to the usual of language lessons and consistent experiments at the hands of Harper.

He was slacking in a way, but it was enough effort that neither girl had snapped at him for it. Renzo did his little language exercises whenever the app gave him alerts, and was able to wake up fast enough to pass out an increased amount of numbers per session without remembering any sort of vague phrase from the Yamantaka contract. If anything, he had made sure he _didn’t_ remember anything about it, which was only making his situation harder.

“Good news,” Emília said, smiling. It was incredibly genuine, the first real excitement Renzo had seen out of her since— “We’ve been assigned to a mission! We only have a few days to prepare, though, so I’ll let Har know you’ll be sticking with me until we get back.”

“A job, huh?” At that point, Renzo knew he really was slacking. Wasn’t his job supposed to be paying attention to what was going on, not playing around on his tablet? Sure, Emília could make them look like the same thing, but that didn’t mean he had accomplished that feat just yet. “What kind of job?”

Emília smiled, abandoning her chair in favor of sitting on her desk. “We’re making our move against Patiti,” she said, and Renzo couldn’t help but remember the mission to Britain. “The higher-ups have determined that they’re an annoying enough of a force to give unnecessary help to the True Cross. So we’re going to take an offensive on their Japan branch to mix things up. Their relationship is already strained, so we’re hoping to make it worse by taking out their main connection to Samael, since he’s the head of their negotiations.”

 _Are they serious? Japan?_ It felt like some sort of joke. Still, turning down the mission because of that would have just made things obvious. Renzo cleared his throat. “Sorry, though, I haven’t really made any progress with Harper. I can’t say I’m really fit material for a raid that big…” he said.

Emília dismissed it with a shake of the head so violent he could hear her beads across the room. “We’re not the forefront—that’s what raid teams are for.” She raised both her hands pointing one index finger at Renzo, the other to herself. “We’re an information team set up to observe and collect data about their manpower and anything else we can find. In fact, if you went summoning Yamantaka all willy-nilly, I’d be angry at you for wasting your energy.”

An observation mission, then? As long as things didn’t get too crazy, Renzo could definitely handle that.

“Right, the most important thing,” Emília said. “It looks like your little Cram School buddies are on an away mission at the field office we’re attacking. I can’t say if they’ll get caught up in things or not, but I figured I’d prepare you so we wouldn’t have to waste time on the shock.” Renzo tried to process the words. His first real mission in ages, and he had to deal with this? He wanted to think they were better than that, but it was just easy to imagine someone slipping up and blowing his cover. Emília practically materialized in front of him, and he expected a lecture for being distracted. Instead, she smiled at him, sending chills down his spine. “You gonna be okay? The Kamiki girl’s gonna be there. What’re you planning to do if she gets in the way?”

Renzo swallowed, feeling his throat turn raw. “You said we were on Intelligence Detail,” he said, and he knew it was the wrong defense.

“Yeah, but it’s still our job. If she gets in the way, then…?” Emília left the sentence dangling, then burst out into laughter. “I get this is pretty hard for you, Kid. I mean, you like her, right?”

“Um.” Of course he liked her. She was the only girl he wanted to love. But at the same time, he… “I made myself like her,” Renzo admitted. Emília kept watching him, her eyes not moving anywhere else. It was more unnerving than usual. “It worked out perfectly with my job, and she’s really cute. And what you said before was right—my façade was a lot more real than I thought, so I actually did fall for her.” He should have smiled. That’s what people did when they thought about the person they loved. But Renzo knew it would be faked, and he couldn’t stand Emília calling him out on it. “I liked her a lot. I even got to be her hero, though that was a lie…”

He wanted to look away from her. Renzo just couldn’t. “Past tense, huh?” she said, not pulling any punches, and Renzo winced. “So once she was out of the picture, you just stopped? Hm, that sort of stuff does happen.”

“I still care for her!” Renzo protested. He needed to care for her, but his feelings were as weak as his voice.

He thought of Izumo, frowning, the few times she smiled. Even when she yelled at him for being an idiot, she was really great. And even though he remembered his heart racing around her before, he was annoyingly stable.

“But it’s not enough, huh? To say that you like her.” Emília shrugged, the clattering of her beads having more substance than his argument. “Well, I guess to some people that could be enough. But the way you are, I just don’t think you care all that much. Sorry if I’m wrong.”

Emília apologizing was unnatural, even if her tone was offhanded. Renzo couldn’t even justify himself. Like the rest of the letters from the Cram School, Renzo had left Izumo’s unopened. If he was crazy about her, then he would have tossed professionalism aside and read it, despite the potential consequences. In reality, he was still on the verge of burning it.

Renzo laughed. There was no good way to describe it. “I guess you’re right.”

Emília raised an eyebrow. “Am I?” she asked.

Renzo knew what this was. She wanted him to say it, not just have it spelled out for him. It was hard to do, considering how much he knew the blow was going to hurt. “I really don’t like her that way anymore…” The lump in his throat was large enough that it would probably consume his Adam’s apple at this point. “I care about what happens to her, but I think my feelings moved on.” He managed laugh again, making sure to look at Emília when he said it. “I guess I really am fickle, considering I think I like you.”

For a section, Emília’s eyes widened. It was something Renzo had never seen before, and he was struck speechless as a result. She recovered first, pushing a bit of her hair aside. “Fickle? More like stupid,” she muttered.

“It’s fine if that’s what you think of me,” Renzo said, pressing forward. “But I can’t help it. I can’t stop thinking about you. You just push all my limits, and I…” He trailed off, feeling stupid. She was right about him, and he knew it, knew she would never take him seriously like this.

Emília huffed but didn’t force the conversation to a close. “Is it really me?” she asked, some of the hardness from the park coming back into her voice. “You’ve hardly been around me. Besides, you could pick an easier target. What about Devi? She’s lonely. She’ll love you.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you lonely?”

Renzo hadn’t meant to say the words. But the shock from before was nothing compared to the look on Emília’s face at the moment, completely taken aback. Renzo didn’t think he knew her well enough to conclude things like that; it had just been a good follow up at the time, but the look on her face meant…

_Is that true, then? Are you lonely?_

_Do you want someone to be around, to be close to you? It’s not that hard, then; just say yes…_

“I am serious,” Renzo said. _At least for now, I really do mean it._ “We’ve got some time before anything major happens, right? And I’m just a kid, so you should be able to handle me on the side.” Renzo stood up, leaning over his desk. “I won’t be too much trouble, Emília-chan, I promise.”

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “Come on, you take me looking for info and spring this on me instead? Sheesh, how am I supposed to handle someone like you?” She moved closer, their noses almost touching. Renzo didn’t dare move. “And with that look on your face, too… It’s the most honest I’ve seen you yet.” Her voice was getting softer, gentler. “You better not disappoint me, okay?”

Renzo blinked. That was a yes, right? That had to have been a yes, because if it was anything else Emília was more of a liar than he was. And since it was a yes, then—

Renzo tipped his head, not caring about anything else she had said. They kissed, and her lips were soft, even softer than her fingertips.

* * *

One thing was for certain—Renzo liked this area of Japan better than he did Inari. For one thing, he didn’t have to worry about getting mentally poisoned over grabbing a snack. For another, since it was a pretty busy area and they were trying to blend in, it was easy for him to send out a quick message to the Headmaster on his Academy phone, which had actual cell service for once instead of Mephisto magic.

Knowing that his warning wouldn’t really do much good, Renzo returned the phone to his jacket and tried to relax a little. Sure, it was the most delayed warning ever, but when exercising caution, he didn’t have much choice, did he? It didn’t help that the other Cram School kids were here, making the desire for the operation to fail harder to suppress.

“It’s a pretty crowded place,” Emília said, walking up to him. Patiti’s base was pretty far up north, where winter didn’t really hesitate. As such, both Renzo and Emília were decked out in thick winter jackets. Renzo tried not to be so disheartened—they were dating now, surely someday she’d let him see. Emília waved her acquired dango in the air, the spoils of the snack break she had gone on. “Want some?” she offered.

Renzo took a snack for himself, looking over the area as he chewed. “Yeah,” he agreed, mainly because the streets were filled by festival goers. “It’s a bit late in the year for a doll festival, though? Wonder what these guys are even thinking…” The only festivals that should be held at this point were ones for New Years, especially with this weather. Even with his jacket and the absence of snow, Renzo was freezing.

“Probably a diversionary tactic,” Emília said, taking a whole dango in one bite for herself. Unlike Renzo, she didn’t bother to separate chewing and words. “Usually big bases are kept secret, but putting on a show says ‘We don’t care who notices this place!’ Of course, that sort of thinking has become obvious, too. When you get into subterfuge, it’s possible to get lost overthinking things.” She swallowed, pilfering the last dango for her own. “Of course, we have confirmed information that this is the Patiti Japan branch, so it’s not like we’re working off hunches.”

“I see,” Renzo muttered. Their cover at this point was only to be light, enough to blend in that Emília hadn’t found a façade necessary. Knowing that, it was okay to take her hand, and Emília was significantly less jumpy that time than the one at the park. “Gotten used to liking me as the real you, then?”

Emília rolled her eyes, which Renzo guessed he deserved. “I’m just taking it seriously,” she muttered. “This isn’t a game or a reward anymore. There’s no point in getting jumpy over it.” Even though her words were a stout, professional denial, her neck was still tinting pink. Renzo chuckled, earning a glare that had been converted into a pout halfway through.

“I’m just teasing,” he assured, which didn’t seem to improve Emília’s flush. “Come on, we’ve got some time before things get rolling. Let’s wander around a bit. I’m actually pretty hungry. Maybe some takoyaki, some mochi…”

Emília nodded. “I’ve actually never tried mochi before,” she said. “I think I saw a stand on the way back, though? Wanna hit up there next?”

“Oh, yeah, that one looked like it made the stuff fresh. Let’s go for it.” Squeezing her hand one more time, Renzo lead Emília through the crowd, glad that he had some form of life experience that she didn’t. He didn’t expect to have many more opportunities for that in the future, so he’d take what he could get. “You’re in for a treat, you know?”

“Is that so?” Her voice sounded light, and when he looked back, she had the most peaceful smile he’d ever seen on her face. “I guess I’ll enjoy the opportunity. We only have a few hours until the mission start time, you know. Gotta make the most of it.”

Renzo groaned. “Can you maybe not talk about work when I get the chance to take you on a real date?”

“You should have thought about that before you decided to go ahead and date your boss.”

He was halfway to protesting, except Emília turned on him, flashing an almost delicate smile that sent the retort crawling right back down Renzo’s throat. _How the hell did I get so lucky again?_ he thought, though the circumstances surrounding everything proved that might not be the most productive question to ask. _Ah, who even cares? I’ll take advantage of the few hours I can snag before I have to think about the annoying stuff._

They were close enough to each other in the crowd that Renzo had no trouble hearing the rattle of her beads, swaying as she moved.

* * *

Mephisto hummed under his breath as he looked over the room that Patiti had leant out to the True Cross. Numerous exorcists dressed in black mingled with others in Patiti’s own tan uniformed, their golden linings playing a contrast to the silver ones of the True Cross Knights. The chatter was loud as the newfound allies coordinated with each other, planning out their roles. In his dog form, no one paid him much mind, most uninformed glances dismissing him as someone’s all-too pampered familiar.

“There you are, Sir Pheles.”

Unfortunately, that disguise didn’t work on people who were in the know, and Okumura Yukio just so happened to be one of those people. The boy’s expression was even more stern as usual, probably due to the additional stress of needing to lead an undertrained group of cram school students into battle. Behind their teacher, the rest of the children stood out from the uniformed crowd in their casual winter clothes and accessories.

Mephisto let out as dramatic as a sigh as he could manage as a dog (which was still pretty dramatic) as he looked at Yukio. “Do try not to ruin the surprise, will you? I like being able to walk around without much of a fuss.” Sure, there were a handful of exorcists within the True Cross who were around of his dog form, but Mephisto liked keeping his cards close to his chest. It was satisfying enough that he’d gotten Angel to ask him the favor of lending the True Cross Academy Cram School students to the mission. “But enough of that small talk. Do you feel as if everyone’s up to the task today?”

Yukio’s brow furrowed in faint worry, but he did exceptionally well at keeping the tone from his voice. “So long as things don’t become too hectic, we should be fine. I’ll keep an eye on everyone, and we’ll focus primarily on support and evacuating civilians.”

Mephisto nodded; he had enough faith that with the group before him, things wouldn’t go quite according to plan, which would keep the situation from getting too boring. Of course, he had his own ways of spicing the situation up. “Well, Shima-kun reported in and said that things should be starting shortly, so stay alert, everyone.”

“You heard from Shima?!” Konekomaru said, his voice rising an octave higher than usual. If the rest of the cram school students hadn’t been listening to the exchange before, they certainly were now, and Suguro looked like he was about to bust a blood vessel in his neck. “Where—”

And from somewhere at the lower floors of Patiti’s hideout, the deep rumble of an explosion triggered a massive shaking in the building.

“That, I imagine,” Mephisto said dryly, “would be him.”

* * *

 _Fun_ was a word that had far too many meanings to bother remembering them all.

It was something that changed with each new iteration, whether there was a change in gender, a change in personality, a change in core existence. Each persona had its own interests, its own things it enjoyed doing. If you dived in deep enough, it was simple to enjoy whatever you felt like. _Fun_ was unconditionally relative.

Chatting about mundane things.

Going out for a drink.

Planning for the moment when _you gathered up someone’s secrets and pulled the wool over their eyes so thoroughly they didn’t stand a chance._

Some things, no matter the persona, wouldn’t change. It was a nasty habit of hers, she supposed, but not one worth fighting. It made the job all the more exciting.

But for fun to be something simple and as peaceful as holding hands and enjoying time with one another, no expectations involved…

She locked the memories away, somewhere deep were they wouldn’t get in the way, and barreled forward without any sense of remorse.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Stronger Than Fire**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Seventeen

* * *

Contrary to the belief of his former classmates, Renzo wasn’t part of the team responsible for the bombing on the Patiti Headquarters, but he was headed in that direction. The explosion had understandably set off a panic in the streets, and everyone who had been all but a handful of minutes ago enjoying the festival stalls were running in the opposite direction, creating an upstream effect of trying to get to where Emília was leading them. She didn’t care in the slightest, swiftly dodging around any civilian in her way, the blonde flash of her hair rippling through the air like a ribbon, the beads on her hairstick occasionally glinting in the light of the sun that managed to break through the haze of gray clouds above.

Renzo used those two indicators as his beacons, pushing ahead so as not to get separated from her. He thought he was handling the unfortunate terrain pretty well, but Emília’s experience far outclassed his own. She made navigating through the gaps in the people like dancing. Renzo just tried not to appear too conspicuous as he went.

That priority became all the more important as the all-too familiar figures of True Cross exorcists came onto the scene and started directing traffic. Though he wasn’t in his Illuminati uniform, Renzo felt too exposed—his dye job was more than enough of an identifying factor. He didn’t know how far Mephisto had spread the information that he was acting as a double agent, but his classmates knew, and if they happened to see him…

_Emília doesn’t suspect me so far, but I don’t know how much that will hold up in front of everyone else._

He didn’t have the breath to waste on a sigh, especially as Emília took a sharp turn into a gap between festival stalls to dodge out of the way of a few more True Cross members. Renzo did the same as soon as he could, his path luckily connecting with the same one Emília ended up on. Most of the festival workers seemed to have evacuated already, so it didn’t take much effort to catch up with Emília’s stride.

“I thought it was our job to observe,” he said, trying not to make the effort it took him to breathe too obvious. Sitting around and getting poked and prodded by the Lucassens, while beneficial to sorting out some of the issues with his contract, wasn’t exactly the best routine for keeping his body in fighting fit shape. “Isn’t it going to be a pain in the ass to stay out of it if we run right into the action?”

Emília didn’t so much as look at him, her bright green eyes locked dead ahead on the path before them. “While you’re half right, we can’t do a whole lot of observing if we’re nowhere near our target. Sure, it’d be nice to kick back and watch everything unfold from on high, but we’ve got bigger priorities.” Her mouth curled up into an almost cruel smirk. “It’s our job to check in on our Leader’s youngest brothers. Sorry not sorry, but I left it out because I knew you’d panic if I told you straight up front.”

_The Leader’s youngest brothers._

_The Okumura twins._

Renzo felt all sorts of conflicting feelings stirring up in him, surprisingly stronger than when he realized he’d be in another situation where he might put Izumo in danger. He kept up his usual smile, though, and pushed a laugh out through the sensation of cotton balls dancing along his tongue. “Do you really think so little of me, Emília-chan?”

Her lips quirked up in the faintest traces of a smile. “Do you want the honest answer to that, Kid?”

“Come _on_! If we’re dating, you can at least—”

“Look alive, Renzo, dear!”

Renzo spluttered at the referral, and it was halfway tripping over his own feet that saved him from the swipe of a glinting blade almost colliding with his head. When he backed up and righted himself, there were two figures in True Cross exorcist coats. One of them was wielding the short sword that had almost struck him, while the other was chanting an incantation with a summoning circle in hand. Judging by the lack of any other weapons, they were primarily a Tamer and Aria combo, while their partner had a couple of firearms hooked to their waist as well.

“Attacking civilians?” Renzo asked, keeping up his usual smile. “That’s not very considerate during a crisis.”

“You can’t fool us,” said the Knight-Dragoon, their offensive stance not wavering in the slightest. “Only Illuminati members would be heading in the opposite direction of an evacuation. We don’t intend to let you pass.”

“Cute that you say that like you have a choice in the matter,” Emília said, not so much as flinching as the Tamer finished their summoning incantation and the bright orange furred shape of an Orthrus prowled onto the battlefield. Renzo tucked his hand inside his jacket, ready to assemble his k’rik, but Emília shook her head. “Don’t bother, dear. While it’s charming that you want to help, I’m more than enough to handle a couple of bottom feeders on my own.”

The tone of her voice was sweet, but Renzo knew better than to argue. He shuffled back a bit further, watching as Emília flicked her hair to the side while the True Cross exorcists wavered between expressing their offense at the dismissal or maintaining a focus on professionalism in a crisis. “Do you think that you have time to taunt us?”

“Absolutely. Do you think you have the time to respond?”

Emília had moved in a flash, and it was only through familiarity with the sound of her beads clinking that Renzo was able to find her, in the air above the True Cross exorcists. The Tamer reacted first, shouting a command at its Orthrus, who launched after its new target. Emília twisted, assembling a staff in her hands as she dodged out of the way of the demon’s claws. The exorcists had a decent amount of coordination, as the Knight-Dragoon had already started shooting off several rounds from their firearm. Emília quickly chanted an incantation, bringing out a shield that knocked aside the incoming attacks and the familiar aside before raising her weapon to strike down at the exorcists.

They both dodged, but Emília didn’t let up, aiming for the Knight-Dragoon. They swiftly traded out their gun for focusing on handling their blade. Emília met the blows with her staff, easily countering whatever came into range and also slipping out of the way of the Orthrus as it joined the fray. Renzo considered summoning Yamantaka to help, but he could only see himself getting in the way.

_Yeah, she’s way out of my league._

She was also way out of the league of her two opponents, neither of which could get a decent hit in aside from a few occasional scrapes. On the other hand, Emília was steadily wearing down the Knight-Dragoon, not giving them any opportunity to use the full range of their skills. Thanks to a nasty hit that made the exorcists’ knee crumple, even without the sound of a nasty break, Emília knocked the sword from their hands and wasted no time in striking a blow to the back of their neck that sent the True Cross exorcist to the ground in seconds.

The Tamer shouted what sounded like a blend between a name and a curse before commanding their familiar to charge forward in an attack. Emília ducked down—not just to dodge, but to swipe a firearm off of the fallen exorcist’s belt. She had it loaded in a few seconds, letting out a rapid-fire chant that added a glowing blue light to the air, accompanying the sound of fired ammunition. The Orthrus snarled as it took several wounds in the flank, blood flecking across the ground and the festival stall that the demon crashed into as it stumbled.

Emília tossed the gun aside like it were a piece of litter before making her own charge, staff in hand. The Tamer-Aria was attempting to make a fresh chant, and Renzo vaguely recognized the incantation as one to grant a boost in power—likely aimed at their familiar. Emília was far faster than the exorcist’s mouth, though, her staff swinging forward and a wicked flash of silver slicing indicating the hidden blades included in the mechanism, one of which had drawn a vibrant bead of blood from a wound on her opponent’s throat.

“You don’t have much combat experience do ya?” she asked, her voice as cheerful as her everyday interactions in the Intelligence Division. “Since you’re not retaliating, you’ve only got the two meisters, too, and both of them rely on your voice.” She pressed her weapon closer. “Be a real shame for your exorcism career if I tore out that throat of yours, huh?”

Pure _fear_ resonated in the exorcist’s eyes, and they, too, joined their fallen companion on the ground.

Renzo swallowed, the chaos happening nearby enough to make the sound less than audible. Emília trotted over to the fallen Knight-Dragoon, pricking their exposed neck with the blade connected to her staff as well, and Renzo noticed a shimmer that was more than metal. “Did you just…poison them?”

“Not quite. Renzo, dear, who’s been providing you with sleeping pills for the past few months?” _Oh._ Emília didn’t even look up as she closed the blades on her staff with a few quick movements, and then the whole thing disappeared back into her jackets like it had never been there in the first place. “You get the nice version. This stuff is powerful enough to knock these suckers out for _quite_ a long time. Too bad I don’t get to collect data on the results, though.” She shrugged, though a thoughtful frown tugged at her lips. “Still, the Knights of the True Cross are gonna be in trouble if they keep this up.”

“Keep what up?” Renzo looked back to the unconscious exorcists, trying to see whatever it was that Emília noticed. As far as he could tell, though, they were just some unlucky people who’d ended up on the wrong end of one of Emília’s moods.

“These two have the indicators of being Intermediate Second Class, but they honestly still fight like a couple of people who’ve freshly graduated up from being Exwires. They don’t have half the ability it takes to wear that title.”

Considering that Renzo hadn’t even advanced past Exwire himself before defecting, he wasn’t sure he had room to judge on that front. “Are you sure it’s not just because you’re way stronger than they are?”

Emília flashed him a smile that still had a predatory glint behind it. “Always the flatterer, huh? And I mean, you’re partway right. Even if they _earned_ that promotion, I’d still be able to take them down. But it doesn’t change the fact that the Order’s expediting promotions to get more people on the battlefield thanks to everything we’re stirring up. It’s honestly a foolish move, but I’m not gonna complain if it makes our jobs easier.” She stretched her arms above her head. “Well, whatever. We don’t have time to waste on small fry like this. Let’s get going, m’dear.”

“R-right.” Though he wanted to comment on how fluidly she’d incorporated the pet name into her speech, Renzo knew it wouldn’t do any good in the moment. Besides, he’d seen how quickly Emília could shift her entire personality for the sake of work—she hadn’t slipped up once while in disguise. Adjusting to such a small referral wouldn’t be anything to her.

It still made his face start to warm up a bit, though.

Emília’s sharp eyes automatically noticed, and half a giggle slipped out of her lips, making her look her age for once. “Y’know, if you do a good job on this mission, I might just be convinced to go on a nice date with you when we get back.”

Even if she was just using his embarrassment against him, Renzo snapped up to attention. “Yes, ma’am! Didn’t you say we needed to be headed towards where O—the Okumura twins are? We shouldn’t waste time just standing around here, then!”

Emília’s smirk was indicator enough what he was dancing in the palm of her hand, but he didn’t care. “Look at you so motivated for work. Wonder what else I can do to encourage some good performance out of you?” Renzo only had halfway processed the words before Emília slapped him on the back and took off running once more. “You’re not gonna get anything if you don’t keep up, dearest!”

The familiar thrum of excitement working its way through his veins, Renzo grinned and followed in his boss’s wake. “Oh trust me, Emília-chan. I’m gonna hold you to that promise of yours!”

* * *

“That, I imagine, would be him.”

The building shook once more, and something in the structural integrity had busted enough that Ryuji could feel the floor starting to tilt to the side beneath his very feet. He had to give some credit to the assembled exorcists—there had only been half a moment of panic before commanders started shouting out orders, and everyone began readying themselves for the upcoming battle, be it with weapons or settling into communication positions.

Okumura-sensei was one of them, deftly undoing the top straps on the holsters of his guns for easy access to the weapons without even needing to look. “That means that we should already be on the ground,” he said, a familiar harsh edge of commandment and stress edging into his voice. “Like we discussed before, you’ll all be in charge of helping civilians evacuate. Operate in your set pairs. Avoid combat at all costs—if fighting is necessary, focus on defense and keeping any noncombatants safe. If you’re in real trouble, send the emergency signal and wait for help. There’s no time to waste. Let’s move.”

Where they’d been somewhat hesitant before, the cram school class all responded with a resounding _Yes_ , just as a fresh tremor rocked the building. Ryuji tried not to think of the damage that would happen if the whole thing collapsed, but he couldn’t forget the sight of so many people out on the streets below, so many more in danger than there had been in Kyoto during the release of the Impure King.

_What the hell does the Illuminati think is so worth it that they’d put so many people at risk?_

“Nii-chan! Let’s do Oona-Oona. As much as you can!”

Moriyama reacted first, her greenman familiar growing in size. Soon after was the sound of shattering glass—Nii had busted straight through the closest window with the expanse of tree branches and roots erupting from his body, and there was still more to come. More calls of Tamer incantations joined the air, and soon several other familiars were doing similar things, until there was a whole network of summoned plants, rock, ice, and more supporting the lopsided building.

Not so much as budging from where he was lounging as a dog, Mephisto still managed to look smug. “Not bad at all,” he said, voice somewhat muffled from his form. “You should all be able to handle this situation well enough for Exwires.”

Ryuji couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing some important piece of the puzzle, but there wasn’t any time to worry about that sort of thing. Okumura-sensei chose to ignore their Headmaster’s commentary and turned to the group of students. “Moriyama-san, it would be best if you stayed in the area to maintain this structure.” Looking all the more fragile next to her familiar’s increased size, Moriyama nodded. “Izumo-san, you’ll stay with her, then. Everyone else, follow me. We’ll split up once we get to the evacuation area.”

Everyone spoke in the affirmative, and they headed off, sticking to their pairs. Rin looked ready to fight, his hands twitching every so often to the grip of the Koma sword, while Konekomaru took longer strides to keep up with the group. Silent but present, Takara kept pace with Ryuji, the two the last ones remaining as assigned partners.

With the building tipping over, the elevators were thoroughly out of commission, and taking the lopsided stairs gave Ryuji plenty of time to think. In terms of combat practicality, their teams made some sense—even if they weren’t supposed to be there to fight. Even so, Ryuji couldn’t help but feel as if the plan had been to keep him and Konekomaru separated, given the circumstances.

 _Dammit,_ Ryuji thought, his hands clenched into fists, _if Shima’s here, I really am going to kick his ass._

And with that thought in mind, their group reached the ground floor, then rushed out the doors and into the chaos waiting outdoors.

* * *

_Admiration_ was a tricky thing to handle.

Admiration didn’t have to be part of love or even liking someone. It could stand on its own, be a part of a larger mosaic of feelings. Admiring someone’s work, but hating their personality. Looking up to how someone performed, but not wanting anything else to do with them. In some cases, admiration blended with jealousy, an attempt at denial of one’s feelings, of not wanting to admit what you lacked in comparison to another.

In his life, there hadn’t been many people he genuinely admired. In fact, he didn’t think he admired anyone at all. Sure, there were people he was _supposed_ to look up to—but the fact that it was a requirement for than a choice soured him off the idea, made it more impossible to handle.

Bon?

Takezo?

 _Forced feelings by necessity_ , really. Part of the intricate mask he’d built for himself. But if nothing else, he’d at least done enough that he was certain he knew his true feelings on the matter. If nothing else, he could convince himself of that, regardless of if it were true or not.

But genuine admiration? What sort of feeling was that?

He wasn’t sure, but, while watching her, he thought, perhaps, he might have an idea of the type of person he wanted to strive to be.


End file.
